


Willow Haven

by WinchestersRaven



Category: Supernatural, destiel - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Castiel is 24, Charlie is an adopted sister, Frottage, Gay Sex, Happy Ending, M/M, Minor Character Death, Slow Burn, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, dean is 18
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2018-07-14 04:47:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7154183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinchestersRaven/pseuds/WinchestersRaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The summer after Dean graduates high school he starts working full time for his family's ranch. The one hundred and eighty-two acres is nestled away just fifteen minutes from downtown Austin, Texas. Sometimes it's backbreaking work to keep the place running, but Dean always wanted the ranch for his own one day. </p><p>When his boyfriend leaves for boot camp and with the arrival of the newest ranch hand, Castiel Novak, Dean's life gets turned upside down. </p><p>Castiel is a mixture of the calm before the storm and a hurricane at times. The more they work with each other daily, the closer they become. </p><p>After a life changing event, Dean finds himself torn between loyalty to his boyfriend and his desire to be closer to Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My amazing friend, Dani, made art for Willow Haven!! I'm so lucky to have it. I'm still in awe and I think it fits perfectly. Check out her master post here:  
> [Graphics for Willow Haven](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10958211/chapters/24391905)  
> She's also a writer, check out her works here:  
> [lotrspnfangirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lotrspnfangirl/pseuds/lotrspnfangirl)  
> 

 

 

 

 

The aroma of bacon, eggs, and coffee greets Dean as he opens his eyes in his still dark room. Five in the morning, _better get used waking up before the sun rises and going to bed long after it sets_ , he can hear his father’s voice in his head. It’s summer and Dean’s eighteen.  He graduated from high school a month ago, and now officially works for his dad on their family ranch. He had the option of going to college, but it just wasn’t for him. His parents always encouraged a higher education, but they left the decision up to him. Dean did okay in school; his grades were decent enough to allow him to pass, but he didn’t soar academically.

Dean turns over on his side, wanting to remain curled up under his soft blanket for a few minutes longer before having to get up and face an endless day. He allows himself to steal a few extra minutes before scooting over enough to flip on the bedside lamp. The soft orange glow is harsh against his eyes that have adjusted to the darkness. When his eyes catch a small lump on a cot in the corner, his sister, Charlie, he smiles to himself.

Celeste, or Charlie, as the boys call her, her parents, Charlotte and Charles Middleton, had been friends with Dean’s parents since high school, and were like an aunt and uncle to Dean and Sam. John and Mary were named as Charlie’s godparents when she was born. When Charlie was five, her parents were killed in a car accident, and Dean’s parents adopted her officially as soon as they were able to. The twelve-year-old may not be blood, but she’s a Winchester through and through. You can’t tell the Winchester boys any different.

Dean creeps around his room quietly, so he doesn’t wake his sister; Charlie is not a morning person. As he’s pulling on jeans and a t-shirt, he hears a quiet voice say, “D? Time is it?”

“It’s a little after five, Care Bear; go back to sleep.”

The mound of blankets moves and a redhead pops into view, “I’m up. Need coffee.” Her voice is still rough with sleep and her speech slurs a bit.

Dean can’t help huffing out a little laugh as he walks over to the cot and sits down, “You’re twelve, there’s no way Dad is going to give you coffee. Plus, it’s summer, you should be sleeping in.”

“I see your mouth moving, but all I hear is blah, blah, blah,” she snarks, a small smile gracing her delicate freckled face. 

Dean tugs on a strand of her hair, “I see Sam’s been rubbing off on you. Where’s my sweet, innocent, sister gone?”

“I was never sweet or innocent.”

“I have pictures of you with pigtails and ribbons in your hair to prove otherwise.”

He doesn’t have time to move before Charlie launches herself at him, poking him in the ribs with her fingers. Dean wiggles out of her reach only to wind up falling on the floor with a thud. “Burn those pictures or I swear I’ll tell Cain you wet the bed.”

“I do not, brat,” he protests as he picks himself up and sidesteps her next attack. Dean hears his dad chastise them from downstairs. “I can’t believe my own sister would try to blackmail me, with a lie nonetheless.” He bends over and kisses her on her forehead, “Go back to sleep, Red, while you can.” With that, he slips out of the door and makes his way downstairs to the kitchen.

John is at the table with a newspaper open and a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. Dean makes his way over to the counter and pours himself a cup, smiling at Ellen who’s just finishing cooking breakfast. She returns the smile, bumping his hip with hers and then turning back around to start plating the food.

Even though he’s tired, Dean enjoys being awake before his siblings.  No one really speaks, only talking when it’s needed. He can just relax, drink his coffee, and revel in the silence as it wraps around him.

It’s just approaching eleven-fifteen, and the heat of the day is already stifling a thick wall of humidity that takes your breath away. The scent of freshly-cut hay, wildflowers, and grass tickles Dean’s nose. He and Sam turned the horses out earlier and are now in the stables, cleaning out the stalls. The brown, wooden walls provide little relief from the soaring temperatures, and Dean’s gray AC/DC shirt is already soaked with sweat. He lifts his arm to his forehead to wipe away the beads of perspiration even though it’s pointless. Dean's throat is dry; his tongue feels thick in his mouth as he sits down on a box in the corner and grabs two bottles of water out of the cooler, tossing one to his brother.

“I’ll be glad when I’m in college,” Sam says after taking a long swig, licking his dry lips. “Get away from the Texas weather.”

“Cali heat isn’t any better, Sammy,” Dean reminds him. Not that Dean would actually know what California weather is like since he’s never traveled outside of Texas.

For about two years now, Sam has been talking about California and Stanford nonstop. He’s only fourteen, but he already has his future planned out.  Sam sits down opposite Dean, “Yeah, but I doubt the humidity is as bad.” He wipes his forehead with the hem of his shirt. “You can go to college, too, you know.”

 

“I know,” Dean replies honestly, “but it’s not for me. Besides, I’ve always wanted to run this ranch.” His mother would tell Dean that when he was little he would beg his grandfather, Henry Winchester, to tell him stories of how the ranch came to be. Willow Haven Ranch has been in the Winchester family for several generations. At one time, it was the backbone of the cattle industry in Texas, and is still self-sufficient to this very day. However, they’ve expanded into several other areas to generate money.

The one hundred and eighty-two acres is nestled away just fifteen minutes from downtown Austin. The place is absolutely breathtaking with its distant panoramic views, wide grass-filled pastures, huge trees, canyons, and rolling bottom pastureland. There is a beautiful spring-fed scenic portion of Barton Creek bordering the property with deep pools and swimming holes that are great for fishing and kayaking, even during the droughts. It’s picture perfect, something that one would see on a postcard.

Because of its location, Willow Haven has branched out in the tourist industry as well. It offers guided tours of the ranch on horseback as well as riding lessons. Two rentable cabins stand on the opposite side of the property for people who want a weekend getaway. A tall, white gazebo with ivy scaling it is available for weddings. During autumn, they provide hayrides and hold a Halloween trunk-or-treat for the children.

“They offer business classes at the community college. You could always look into that if you want. It would help when this place is yours,” Sam offers.

Dean’s just about to open his mouth to brush off the suggestion when a blur of red hair streaks by. The brothers exchange a glance, “Ten bucks she’s heading down to Barton.”

Dean shakes his head, “No way, Sammy. We both know where she’s going.”

“Dad probably found her hiding in the attic again, reading comic books,” Sam’s smile is wide, showing off the dimples that he hates.

“‘Course he did,” Dean replies, standing up and stretching out his bones. “I told that girl she needs to find a better hiding spot.” He steps out of the stables and a cool breeze whispers across his face, sending a chill up his spine. It’s too damn hot and he’s sweating like a whore in church. “Break time?”

Sam laughs as he stands up, “Yeah, let’s go.”

They both haul ass across the pasture where a few of the horses are grazing, past the gazebo their mother built a few years ago, and down to the creek. They kick off their shoes, fingers fighting with buttons and zippers, and then jeans and shirts get tossed unceremoniously to the side. Dean is the first to hit the water in nothing but his boxers. The water is a cold shock at first, but it’s a welcome relief that settles into his core. His arms slice through the water as he holds his breath a bit longer before surfacing with a large gulp of air.

This is their favorite place on the ranch, almost like a hideaway because it’s rarely used by anyone else. The only people to ever visit this part of the creek work for the ranch, and normally they never come this far out. Dean wonders if the adults leave it for them as if it’s Holy ground for the Middleton-Winchester kids. It’s a breathtaking view, the trees surrounding the area, the blues, pinks, and reds of random flowers that Dean doesn’t know the name of, but are beautiful nonetheless. The water of Barton Creek is crystal clear; he can see the bottom of the creek even though he can’t touch it with his feet. The spot they’re in is one of the deepest. 

To his right, he sees Charlie sunbathing on a rock; he swears that child is part-reptile sometimes. Her pale skin is dotted with beads of water, and her damp hair pulled into a high ponytail on her head. She’s wearing her favorite Wonder Woman bathing suit; she’d probably wear it everywhere if she could. Her cheeks are starting to pinken. Dean knows it doesn’t take her long to burn under the unforgiving sun. “Hey, kiddo, tell me you put sunscreen on before you took off from the house.” He’s pretty sure he sounds like a nagging mother, but he doesn’t care. He’s the oldest, and it’s his job to look after his siblings.

Charlie doesn’t look in his direction; she just nods her head. “I’m not a moron, D.” Her left arm pops up into view with a tube of sunblock. “I’m about to put it on. I don’t want to be as red as a lobster later.”

“Well, at least your skin would match your hair,” Sam says as he glides through the water.

“Hardy-har-har, Samuel; you’re hilarious.” Charlie sits up, pops the cap open on the tube and starts pouring the lotion in her hand, “If I burn, you’ll be putting aloe on me later.”

“Don’t call me Samuel, _Celeste_ ,” Sam hisses through his teeth, throwing her a look that Dean has dubbed ‘the bitch face’.

Dean hears their sister growl and catches Sam’s eye-roll. He smiles, “Hey, she gets her sassiness from you. Can’t blame anyone but yourself, Sammy.” He gets a face full of water for his troubles, and he sputters before launching himself at his brother and dunking him under the water. It starts a full-on war of splashing each other and trying to pull the other under as many times as they can. Dean knows they don’t have long to enjoy the cool depths of the swimming hole, so he enjoys it while he can. The laughter from all three of them rings out and echo all around them.

Twenty minutes later, the boys pull themselves out of the water and sit on the bank to dry off. They don’t speak; they just sit there listening to the breeze ruffle the leaves on the trees, the soft call of animals in the distance. It’s peaceful out here. Dean lies back on the ground, letting the sun warm his skin.  Closing his eyes against the bright light, he allows his mind to slip away.

It doesn’t take long for the thin material of his boxers to dry.  Dean opens his eyes, stands up, and tugs his jeans on. He turns around to see his brother sprawled out near Charlie. “Lunch is probably ready; I’m sure Ellen will be looking for us soon. We better head back before she decides to tan our hides.” Sam only nods in response as he stands up to do the same. After pulling on his boots, Dean walks over to their sister, “You too, Red. I know you skipped out on your chores. Better get to the house and eat. You may have Dad wrapped around your little finger, but Ellen isn’t afraid of giving you a piece of her mind.”

“Aye Aye, Captain,” she says, pulling herself off the ground and brushing off her swimsuit.

Dean was right, Ellen was just about to come looking for them for lunch.  She takes the dish towel hanging from her shoulder and swats at them playfully as they walk by, telling them to wash up before she turns around and follows them into the house. John sits at the head of the table, Charlie sits to his right, and Jo sits to his left. Sam and Dean fill the chairs beside the girls. Charlie and Jo start chattering about whatever twelve-year-old girls like to talk about; Dean really isn’t sure since he tends to tune them out.  He loves them, he really does, but they can give him a headache.

Ellen sets the food on the table and takes a seat at the other end. It used to bother Dean when the older woman would sit in his mother’s chair. Mary Winchester passed away four years ago after a long battle with cancer. To Dean, it felt like Ellen was trying to take Mary’s place. He finally came to terms with it six months after Mary’s death. It still stings a bit, but he can’t hold it against the woman. He knows she only tries to take care of them the way they’ve done for her.

Ellen and his dad go way back.  Her husband, Bill, and John had been hunting buddies since their teens. After Bill’s death, Ellen and her daughter Jo moved into a house on the ranch. She helped Mary run the wedding venue after selling her bar in downtown Austin.  Now she helps with housework as well. John has told her a million times that she doesn’t have to cook or clean up after them. The woman never listens to him, and her response is the same every time, _“Someone has to take care of y’all, you old coot.”_  

About five minutes later, Dean’s Uncle Bobby walks in. He declines to join them for lunch, but grabs a beer out of the fridge. He pulls a chair up to the table and sits beside Dean. The two men strike up a conversation about the ranch, Bobby’s auto shop, and everything else in between.

“Bobby, you know anyone around here looking for a job?” John asks, taking a pull from his own beer. “Ash is moving out of state in a few days.”

Bobby scratches his beard, clearly taking a few minutes to think. “Nah, no one I can think of off the top of my head. I’ll ask around, see what I can find out.”

“I know someone,” Ellen speaks up. “He’s former military, medical discharge. Hard worker, too.”

Dean looks up in time to see the spark of respect in his dad’s eyes at the mention of the military. “The boy got a name?”

“Castiel Novak.  He just moved back to Austin a month ago. I’ve known his family since he was knee-high.” Ellen takes a sip of her iced tea and leans back in her chair, “I could call him up, probably get him out here tomorrow.”

John nods once, “Sounds good, Ellen.” John’s eyes turn to Dean, “Dean, you and Sam can help me move the cattle to the south pasture after we finish eating.” His dad’s attention turns to Charlie. “Ladybug, you and Jo can finish up in the stables.”

“Yes, sir,” Charlie responds. The girl loves the horses, so it’s a perfect fit for her.  She constantly wants to take one out for a ride. Dean’s sure if Charlie could sleep out in the stables, she would. Here lately, John has allowed her to start helping with the horseback riding lessons for tourists.

 “And don’t think I didn’t notice you skipping out this morning,” John’s tone takes on an edge of authority. “After you’re done with that, you can help Ellen with dinner.”

Dean tries to hide a smile when he sees Charlie scrunch her nose up, slumping down in her chair, letting out a small groan. Dean’s aware the punishment is the worst thing that could ever happen to his sister. Well, in Charlie’s opinion, of course.

With that, the conversation changes again. Dean finishes eating his lunch and heads back out to the stables to finish. 

It’s around nine when he finishes his shower. Dressed in a worn t-shirt and his flannel pajama bottoms, he crawls in bed, his muscles screaming at him. The workload made his whole body sore. It seems the heat from the water helped, but it was only temporary. Dean thought at one time that being on a ranch all his life, his body would get used to the aches and pains that come along with daily chores. However, with the work changing daily, one never gets accustomed to one thing in particular. Dean grabs his book off his nightstand. Reading before bed seems to relax him a bit. After a few paragraphs and the letters jumping around on him, he closes it. School for Dean was not easy, and he would become increasingly frustrated while reading. No one around him seemed to understand why he had such a hard time with what should be a simple task. After explaining to his fourth-grade teacher what exactly was going on when he would read, they figured out he was dyslexic.  It wasn’t smooth sailing after that, but was a little easier.

  
He moves to turn off the light, but stops short when hears a soft knock on the door. Dean already knows who is on the other side before he calls out for them to enter. Charlie and Sam walk in to tell him goodnight. Dean ruffles his brother’s hair and makes sure to give his sister an extra tight squeeze before letting her go. After a few minutes, they leave the room.

Dean’s exhausted and knows it will be a long day tomorrow. Even if the guy Ellen knows shows up in the morning and his dad decides to hire him, Dean’s day will be full.  Work on a ranch is endless. It will be nice to have help, though. He settles down on his side, and hooks one arm under his pillow. Just before he falls asleep, he whispers out a prayer, telling his mom he loves her and goodnight, and it makes his heart ache just a little like always. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal notice  
> Some of the characters found in this story and / or universe do not belong to me, but are the intellectual property of their respective authors. The original characters of this story are my intellectual property. Non-profit history created from fan to fan without compromising the original work


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I realized I updated the wrong version of chapter two. This is the correct version. There are differences in them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Hannah, for editing this. You're amazing.

The sky is cloudy with patches of light blue peeking through, and the early morning sun is shining. Dean is fixing the fence in the north pasture with the help of his friend Cain. The heat’s temperature slowly rising and Dean strips himself his of shirt, tossing it aside before he fastens another pole to the woven wire fence.

“So, I leave for boot camp in a week,” Cain begins as he hands over the posthole digger. “What’re you gonna do without me around to call up at stupid-thirty in the morning to help your ass?”

Dean arches an eyebrow at the other boy before he starts breaking up the ground for another one of the posts. “Same thing I do when you’re not here, do it myself.” He turns around and grabs a pole off the ground, “I could do this in my sleep, Adamson. You’re not helping much, anyway.”

“That’s because you’re so sexy it’s distracting,” Cain comments as he steps up behind Dean, resting his hands on his hips. “Do you really expect me to be able to focus on helping with the fence when you’re shirtless?”

Dean had met Cain during basketball tryouts their junior year and started hanging out with him when they both made the team. With all the time they had spent together, a fast friendship formed between the two. They'd been dating for five months by the time they graduated.

“Cain,” Dean warns, “I’m trying to get this done.” Feather-light kisses press against the nape of his neck, and all Dean wants to do is fall back against Cain, maybe spin him around, take Cain in his arms, and kiss him properly. His libido is definitely on board, but right now is not the time or place. “Damn it,” the words are spoken softly before Dean takes a breath and regains control. “We can’t do this here. My dad could see.”

The hands fall away, and Dean turns around to face Cain when he hears his boyfriend sigh. “We’re so far out he'd need to stand on the roof of the barn with binoculars to see us, Dean.” A smile crosses Cain’s face, “Speaking of the barn, we could go in the hayloft, no one would find us there.”

Dean crosses his arms, his eyes flickering to the ground, “That’s not a good idea in broad daylight and you know it.”

Cain steps closer to him; he hooks his finger under Dean’s chin and lifts it, “What are you afraid of?”

“You know the answer to that, Cain, this is nothing new.” Dean looks past his the other boy's face, keeping an eye out for anyone who might walk up on them. “My dad—”

“Your dad knows I’m gay, Dean. He has no problem with that,” Cain interrupts. “He knows Ash is bi, he knew long before Ash even came out. What’s the difference?”

“The difference is…” Dean snaps, but quickly lowers his voice. “The difference is I’m his son. That’s the fucking difference, Cain.”

“I’m not trying to push you, Dean,” Cain runs a hand over his own mouth; it’s clear to Dean that Cain is choosing his words carefully as he speaks. “I’m just saying, I’ll be there for you when you decide to tell him.”

Dean relaxes, and after checking one last time to make sure they're still alone, he reaches out and grabs Cain’s wrist, pulling him close for a chaste kiss. “I know, babe. Thank you for that, really, but I’m not ready to do that right now.” After another quick kiss, Dean lets go of Cain and turns back around to finish the fence. “Now, stop trying to distract me and help.”

Dean places the last pole into the ground, his feet holding it in place as he makes sure it's secured to the other side of the fence. With Cain’s help, they’ve knocked out a two-hour job out in no time, and Dean's ready to finish his other chores. He picks his shirt up off the ground and slings it over his shoulder. He's about to head to the house when he hears his dad’s voice. Dean looks up to see a man beside his dad; he can’t make out what they’re saying, but John’s lips are moving. The other guy is around Dean’s height, maybe a little shorter, Dean really can’t tell yet. But they're headed toward him so Dean assumes this is the guy Ellen mentioned yesterday.

“We have a hundred and eighty-two acres. It’s a lot of work,” John says to the other man when they get closer.

“I’m not afraid of hard work,” the man answers.

“That’s what I like to hear.” John stops in front of Dean, “Son, this is Castiel Novak. Castiel, this is my oldest boy, Dean.”

Dean wipes his hand on his jeans and then holds it out, “Nice to meet you, Castiel,” he offers. If there is one thing Mary Winchester taught her children, it was to be polite when meeting someone new to the ranch.

“Likewise,” Castiel says, his voice deep and rough like the lull of the nighttime wind battering the sides of the farmhouse.  This close, Dean can tell Castiel is an inch shorter than he is, and his dark brown hair looks like the man runs his hands through it several times. His eyes are a deep shade of blue, like the sky after a storm. When Castiel looks at Dean it feels like he's being unraveled. Almost as if his heart is somehow on display. It leaves Dean feeling a bit unsettled. 

John throws an arm around Dean’s shoulder, “Dean'll show you the ropes until you get into the swing of things around here.”

“What about Sam? He usually helps me.”

“He’ll still help, when needed. I figure this way he can keep that sister of yours in line. Maybe get her to do her stuff on time.”

“Fat chance of that happening,” Dean says, a smile crossing his face at the thought of Sam attempting to keep Charlie ‘in line’. Their sister would eat Sam for lunch and spit him back out.

His dad huffs a laugh, “She’s a lot like you when you were her age. Always taking off, hiding from your chores.”

Dean can’t argue with that, he bore more than a few similarities to Charlie when he was twelve. Hell, from the ages of ten to thirteen he always hid out somewhere reading a book or helping his mother as much as he could. It was only after Mary’s death that he threw himself into work around the ranch and keeping up with his schoolwork.

John looks over to Cain, “I take it Dean dragged your ass out here to help?”

“Yes, sir,” Cain answers, “before the sun came up.”

“Get used to it, boy, it'll be that way in the Army. Only they’ll wake you up earlier.” John slaps Cain on the back, “Castiel, this is Cain Adamson, a friend of Dean’s. He’s heading off for boot camp soon.”

The two men shake hands.

“Let’s get back to the house for lunch. Ellen will whip all of our asses if we’re late,” John says, turning around and heading back to the house. 

Later that night, after everyone's in bed, Dean walks Cain out to his truck. The night sky is an inky black, dotted with twinkling stars and wisps of cloud here and there. Dean’s always been amazed by how different this part of Austin is from downtown, even though they aren't that far apart. He can see stars for miles here in his backyard, but if he travels just fifteen minutes away, lights drown out the sky and its quiet beauty.

A soft breeze sweeps across their faces every now and then as they stand there together. It's quiet other than the cicadas and crickets chirping out a symphony a short distance from where they lean against the cool metal of Cain’s truck. 

“I’ll miss you while I’m gone,” Cain says after a while of them just looking up at the stars.

“It’s just boot camp. That’s what, like ten weeks?”

“Yeah, ten weeks, but there’s no guarantee that I’ll get stationed in Texas after.” Cain clears his throat, “Do you think we should part ways before I leave?”

Dean exhales softly, that’s something that he’s been thinking about a lot lately, the fact that Cain will be leaving and may not return to Texas. They’re only eighteen. He cares for Cain, he just isn't sure he sees them in it for the long-haul. He also has his responsibility to the ranch. It will one day be his, and that is something he's wanted for as long as he can remember.

Cain's aware of that fact; they’ve talked about it more than once. They’re both fully aware that if Cain is stationed out of state then their relationship will have to come to an end? They have no illusions on that subject. If their lives were different, their paths going in the same direction, Dean could see them together for a while. Maybe they would even fall for each other.

“Is that what you want?” Dean’s voice is soft as he asks the question.

“No.” Cain threads a finger through one of the belt loops on Dean’s jeans and pulls him so that they're standing hip-to-hip. It’s small, but that point of contact between them is the only thing they can get right now. Even though John’s room is at the back of the house, Dean is always cautious when they're at the ranch. “I may be selfish, but I don’t want to give you up yet.”

Dean takes Cain’s hand in his and says, “Then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Do you think you can get away Saturday night?”    

“Yeah, probably, we don’t usually work a whole lot on Sundays,” Dean answers. “What’s going on Saturday?”

Cain pushes himself off the truck and opens the door, climbing inside, “My family's throwing a party before I leave.”

Dean moves to where he’s standing on the other side of the door after Cain closes it. “Sounds good, I’m sure Dad won’t have a problem with me going.” He leans in through the open window and presses a quick kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. Cain smiles after the kiss is broken. Dean crosses his arms over his chest and steps back, saying goodnight before Cain turns the key and drives off slowly down the gravel driveway.

Dean walks upstairs to his room and isn’t surprised to see Charlie sitting in his bed reading a book. “It took you long enough,” she says. “Were you playing kissy-face with Cain again?”

He ignores her question while pulling a pair of pajama pants out of his dresser and draping them over his shoulder, then says, “Where’s Sam?”

Dean can feel her rolling her eyes behind him as she answers, “He’s asleep already.” 

He turns to walk to the bathroom and quickly changes for the night. Back in his room, he crawls in bed on the other side of his sister. “Are you sleeping in here?”

She nods her head, “Yeah, if that’s alright.”

“As long as you don’t snore, I’m good,” he teases. “Lights out, kid.”

Charlie sighs as she closes her book and places it on the bedside table before flipping the lamp off and settling down on her side of the bed, “Did you meet the new guy?”

“Yeah, when he was with dad earlier today. Why?”

“No reason. He seems nice and he’s dreamy.”

“Dreamy?” Dean laughs softly at his sister. “What do you know about dreamy?”

“I’m twelve, not blind, jackass.”

He reaches out and tugs on a strand of her hair, “Watch your mouth. Dad hears you saying stuff like that, he’ll blame me.”

“Where do you think I learned it from?”

“Go to sleep, Charlie.”

The bed shifts under the weight of his sister moving. “Sing to me?”

Dean groans like he’s put-out, but he actually doesn’t mind singing for her. She only asks on nights that she’s missing Mary and her parents. “What song?”

She hums, “The one you and Mama Mary would sing when I was little.” ~~~~

Dean turns on his side facing his sister, clears his throat and start singing the lyrics softly.

“ _When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be_.”

As Dean's eyes close, he pictures ~~a~~ chubby, five-year-old Charlie sobbing into Mary’s shoulder. His sister had been too young then to understand that her parents weren’t coming back, and his mom had held her tight and sung softly to her.

“ _And in my hour of darkness, she is standing right in front of me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be. Let it be, let it be. Whisper words of wisdom, let it be_.”

Dean would curl up next to them, running his small hand through Charlie's red hair while he listened to his mother’s voice. He'd always loved listening to her sing.

“ _And when the night is cloudy, there is still a light that shines in me, shine on until tomorrow, let it be. I wake up to the sound of music, Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be. Let it be, let it be_.”

Memories of Charlie crawling into his bed at night after Mary passed away fill Dean's mind now. The eight-year-old girl would twine his fingers through hers as she started humming quietly. Dean would pull her close, kissing her forehead, and, even though his heart was heavy, he would start singing the words. Some nights Sam would join as well, all three of them nestled in Dean’s bed.

“ _There will be an answer, let it be. Let it be, let it be, whisper words of wisdom, let it be._ ”

Charlie and Sam are the glue that holds Dean together, and he, in turn, keeps them from falling apart. People call them the three musketeers, and he couldn’t agree more.

Saturday evening Dean dresses in a pair of well-worn jeans, a plain black t-shirt with a gray flannel and his sneakers. He gels his hair in place and dabs a little cologne on before grabbing his wallet and heading out for the night.

Dean slides in the Impala and drives downtown to Cain’s neighborhood. The Adamson's live in a gated community. Anyone that lives in the area obviously comes from money, but Cain’s parents are always welcoming when Dean visits. The driveway of the two-story brick home is so full of cars that Dean has to park on the street. As he shuts off the engine and as he climbs out, Cain meets him.

“You made it,” his boyfriend greets him with a small smile and a quick kiss. “I’ll warn you now that my grandparents are here.” Cain wraps his arms around Dean’s waist. “They know about you, but PDA should be kept to a minimum.”

Dean goes in for another kiss, this time tracing his tongue along the other boy’s lips.  He smiles when he pulls back and Cain’s eyes appear more dilated than usual. “No dry humping you in front of everyone, then?”

“Fuck,” Cain breathes out in the small distance between them.

 “That can be arranged. Although I’m not sure your grandparents want a front row seat to that event.” Dean laughs when Cain rolls his eyes in response.

“Let’s get inside before I decide to shove you back into your car and fog up the windows.”

“I have no objections to that,” Dean says as Cain takes his hand and slips his fingers between Dean’s.

Cain starts walking up the driveway, “You’re not gonna make this night easy are you?”

“I’ll be good,” Dean promises. “But after everyone leaves, all bets are off.” 

His boyfriend doesn’t respond as they step inside the house. Cain’s mom wraps Dean in a hug and ushers him into the living room, introducing him to the other guests. After awkward hello's, Mrs. Adamson pulls Dean into the kitchen where Cain’s father is making his famous homemade salsa. He nods at Dean and continues his work.

“How's everything going, Dean?” She asks as she pulls a soda from the fridge and hands it to Dean.

Dean leans against the island, crossing one leg in front of the other. “Good, Mrs. Adamson. Everything’s good.”

“Emily,” She corrects. “Are you heading off to college soon?”

The question doesn’t surprise Dean in the slightest. He knew they would eventually ask. “No,” Dean answers her truthfully. “I’m working full-time for my dad, now.”

Ms. Adamson sits down on a stool near her husband and smiles, “Is that what you want to do?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dean places his soda on the wood top of the island and shoves his hands in his pockets. “It’s always been the plan.”

“Emily,” Cain’s father speaks up before his wife has a chance to speak again. “Don’t interrogate the boy. He’s here to have a good time.” Mr. Adamson pushes the bowl away and looks over at Dean. “You want to help me with the grill? I know being around a lot of people you don’t know can be overwhelming.”

That’s what Dean likes about his boyfriend’s father. He's always felt as if the man understands him. Mr. Adamson is laid-back and only questions things when he needs to.

They walk out back into the fenced in yard and Cain’s father pulls a beer out of a cooler sitting on the porch. “If anyone asks, I didn’t give that to you.”

“Understood, sir,” Dean responds with a smile and follows the man further into the yard where the grill is set up.

“Dean, you don’t have to keep up the formality.” He smiles as he flips the meat over the fire, “Your dad raised you right, but call me Nick. Please.”

Dean nods and the two men start talking about a range of topics from what Dean's duties are on the ranch to sports.

Fifteen minutes later, Nick starts pulling the hamburger patties off the grill.

Cain comes up behind Dean and hooks his chin on his shoulder. “Dad, are you giving Dean a hard time?”

“No,” Cain’s dad shoots them a knowing grin. “I’m sure you’ll do that later, son.”

Dean throws his head back laughing, narrowly missing his boyfriend’s head as Cain groans out, “Dad.”  

“I was born at night, son, not last night.” Nick chuckles a bit before saying, “Let’s eat, boys.” 

As they walk back to the house, Dean finds himself wondering how different his life would be if his own father was like Nick. John's a decent dad; he always made sure to provide for his family and has always been present in his children's lives. However, as Dean grew up, his dad placed more responsibilities of the ranch on his shoulders. Between his chores, watching his siblings, and schoolwork Dean really didn’t have a childhood. He can’t really complain, though, he would just love to be more open with his dad. One thing he’s certain about is the fact John wouldn’t be as accepting of his sexuality as Nick is with Cain.   


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family holds a get-together as a way of getting acquainted with Castiel and a nighttime swim in Barton creek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to Hannah and her amazing beta skills. I'd be lost without you.  
> Also thank you, Dean, for helping with dialogue in this chapter.  
> Melanie, thank you for reading and giving feedback as I was writing this.

Following tradition, the second Sunday after Castiel has moved in, the ranch becomes a flurry of activity. The Winchesters always hold a cookout after gaining a new employee as a way for the family and staff members to become acquainted with the new addition.

After chores are done for the day, it’s time to relax and just enjoy themselves. John and Bobby are manning the grill, drinking beer and catching up on everything while flipping hamburgers and hot dogs over the flames. Jo and Charlie are underneath the shade of a Weeping Willow tree, huddled close and giggling every now and then. Benny and Andrea are at the picnic table listening to the radio and talking. Sam and his friend Sarah are on the porch swing reading a book together. The only staff member missing besides Castiel is Garth, and that's because he normally visits his family on Sundays.

Dean walks inside the house and makes his way to the kitchen. He finds Ellen standing at the counter, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail as she mixes what looks like potato salad. On the table is an array of different food items: deviled eggs, a fresh garden salad, baked beans, homemade French fries, and three different kinds of pie. The woman has really outdone herself, but this is normal for any get-together they have. Dean asks if she needs any help, and Ellen smiles and shakes her head before shooing him out of the house.

Back outside, Dean steps off the porch, walking farther out from the others and leaning against a tree near the horses grazing in the pasture. Watching the animals relaxes him, brings a peace over him that he can’t quite explain. White, puffy clouds drift slowly by, and he remembers days past when he’d lay in the grass with Sam and Charlie, trying to see shapes in them. His favorite memory will always be picking wildflowers and giving them to his sister. She'd fashion them into crowns for the three of them, appointing herself the Queen of Moondoor and Dean her loyal handmaiden. 

The heat of the day has cooled a little with the gentle evening breeze. The shade of the tree offers some reprieve, and an itch for the cool water of the creek forms under Dean's skin. It’s a good day for a swim, even if he has to wait until dark.

Movement to his left catches his attention, and Dean looks over to see Castiel walking toward him from the direction of Barton Creek. His clothes are dry, but his hair isn't. He looks up at Dean, and their eyes meet across the distance and hold. Dean's pulse quickens a bit. He’s not uncomfortable under the man’s gaze, it’s more the fact that any time Castiel looks at Dean, it’s like he’s seeing a side of him that Dean isn’t aware of, perhaps one that even Dean, himself, doesn’t know.   

Over the past two weeks they’ve worked side-by-side from sun-up to sundown. They rarely spoke to one another during that time, but found a synchronicity almost instantly. At first, it threw Dean that Castiel seemed to know exactly what he needed before Dean had a chance to ask for it, as if the man could read his mind. It definitely was something Dean had to get used to, but by the end of the week he didn’t think much of it. Now, Dean has to admit that he likes working with Castiel. They finish more work in one day than he does with anyone else.

“Dean Michael, boy, wash up,” Ellen hollers, effectively scaring the shit out of Dean and pulling him out of his stare-down with Castiel. The man smiles at him and continues to walk in the direction of the party. Dean shakes his head, pushing himself off of the tree and making his way back to the house.

“Thanks for the heart attack, Ell,” Dean says with a grin as the woman swats at him with the towel in her hand. He makes quick work of soaping up and rinsing off his hands. He then grabs a pitcher of sweet tea and heads outside, following behind Ellen. Dean sits down next to Castiel as the food is passed around the picnic tables. It’s loud; everyone is talking at the same time and there are many different conversations going on at once. The food is delicious, but does nothing to keep the volume down. No one seems to mind, though. The laughter and good-natured ribbing continue throughout dinner. It warms Dean’s heart to see his family like this, but at the same time a pang of grief hits him. The only thing that would make this day better would be if his mother were here to see it.

Sam looks up at Dean and smiles, and he knows his kid brother is thinking the same thing. Dean tries to keep his mind on the present so that it doesn’t affect his mood, and when the conversations die down and start to shift toward Castiel, he pays attention. He wants to learn everything he can about the quiet man he’s been working with. 

After they eat, the adults watch the pre-teens and teens chase each other around the yard with water balloons. Dean was smart enough to move onto the front porch, keeping himself out of the line of fire. Sitting in a wicker rocking chair with a slight breeze whispering across his face every now and then, his eyes track his siblings across the way as they shout and roar with laughter when a balloon pops against them. Sam and Sarah are on one team while Charlie and Jo make up the other. They hide behind trees, jumping out to launch their water-filled weapons at the unlucky victim. He can’t keep from smiling at their antics. It’s not that he wasn’t allowed a childhood, more was simply expected from him as the oldest of the brood. Instead of running around the ranch playing, he was usually busy helping his father. Dean’s okay with that, he really is. Because the more he worked, the more his sister and brother had time to be kids.

He tucks his feet up underneath him, settling further back into the chair and laughs as he watches Charlie climb their brother like a tree. The redhead busts a balloon on top of his head, drenching the shaggy brown hair that Sam refuses to cut. All three girls giggle when Sam cusses loudly and starts chasing them around the yard, vowing to make the girl’s night miserable. It’s an empty threat and everyone knows it. Sam worships the ground their little sister walks on, even if they butt heads more than anyone in the household does.

Goosebumps rise up on Dean’s skin, and an awareness that he’s being watched washes over him, breaking his attention. Looking over his shoulder, he sees Castiel standing with his back against a tree and one foot propped back against its bark. The man is staring at Dean, smoke curling up from his cigarette as he lifts it to his lips and takes a drag from it.

Dean doesn’t know what possesses him to push himself up from the rocker and walk down the stairs in the direction of the man. 

He stops in front of Castiel, cocking a grin as he says, “Those are bad for you.”

Castiel tilts his head to the side slightly, his eyes roaming over Dean’s face a bit longer than necessary before he replies. “Some say drinking and sex are unhealthy pleasures of the flesh as well, but I indulge in those. Should I refrain from enjoying them, too?” 

Dean shrugs noncommittally. "Depends on who you ask."

"I'm asking you," Castiel fires back, eyes glinting. "What am I allowed, if not my vices?"

Dean shifts minutely, feeling heat flare across his cheeks and the back of his neck. "I'm sure you can find other things to keep you busy."

A smirk slowly etches its way across Castiel's countenance as he moves from the tree and easily encroaches Dean's personal space. "Are you volunteering?"

Dean’s heart starts racing at their proximity, and he stutters, "N-no."

Castiel doesn't move, studying Dean intently as though in search of something before another inscrutable smile appears. "Pity." He takes a long drag, and then to Dean's utter surprise, lifts his hand to run the backs of his fingers along the edge of Dean's jaw. Dean’s eyes flick to Castiel’s lips as more smoke drifts from them and escapes in winding tendrils. "I'm always open to new ideas."

Dean stands there, his mouth opening and closing much like a fish's out of water. His mind tries in vain to grasp at the words that swirl around in his head, desperate to find his voice again. He hears Castiel laugh softly before sidestepping him and walking away.

Dean remains firmly planted in his current spot, only looking over his shoulder to catch his father watching him. The unreadable look on John’s face quickly snaps Dean back to reality; his feet finally obey the command to move and he sends up a silent plea, praying his father didn’t see the whole exchange. 

Charlie's decided to have a sleepover with Jo and Sarah. Lying in bed, Dean can hear their faint giggles through the walls.  It’s after ten and he should be asleep, but he’s restless, tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable. He still has that itch under his skin for a nighttime dip in the creek, so he throws back the covers, walks over to his dresser and grabs a pair of loose-fitting jeans.

He quickly changes into them and then exits the room. The space under his dad’s door is dark so he quietly makes his way down the stairs and through the house without the aid of light. He grabs a flashlight out of the closet in the living room, slips on his flip-flops and heads out the door.

The moon is full and the air is still warm when it hits Dean's face. At least it cooled down to the low eighties. Dean makes sure to wait until he's far enough from the house before he flicks on the light in his hand. The crickets and cicadas are singing in the distance along with other animal calls as he walks through the open pastures down to the edge of the property.

The area around the creek bank is a little rocky in places, and Dean makes sure to keep the light focused on the ground so he doesn’t trip and fall. When he gets to the swimming hole he stops long enough to slip out of his shoes and clothes, tossing them aside. The creek is still warm from the heat of the day as he wades in slowly. When he’s waist-deep, Dean submerges the rest of his body beneath the depths.

As the water closes over his head, it drowns out all thoughts of the conversation had earlier with Castiel. He doesn’t really want to think about it, if he’s honest with himself. Dean breaks the surface when his lungs start screaming for air, and takes a few deep breaths before he relaxes his body and allows himself to float.

Time seems to crawl slowly by as he enjoys the peace he finds in this sanctuary; he has no worries here. He fixes his eyes on the vast space of the sky filled with blazing stars. The wisps of cloud look as if an artist’s hand has painted them, like strokes of white against an inky black palette. Dean searches for the star he named after his mother; it’s the brightest one of them all, and on clear nights he can spot it easily. He finds it above of one of the trees, and he smiles and whispers, “Hey, mama.” 

A twig snapping breaks the tranquility, and Dean stands in the water to search the tree line before looking towards the bank and seeing Castiel standing by the large, flat rocks near the water’s edge that are mostly used for sunbathing. He can’t help but watch as the man undresses down to his swim shorts. He’s human, after all, and Castiel has a nice body. The tanned skin, the way his muscles ripple as he strips out of his shirt. Dean’s eyes trail down to Castiel’s strong thighs and legs as his jeans slide down to pool at his feet.

As the other man starts to step into the water Dean can’t help saying, “When I said you should find other hobbies, I didn’t mean stalking me.”

“What can I say? I find you fascinating,” Castiel answers quickly, like he didn’t have to think twice about the answer. “Besides, I would hardly call it stalking just because we happen to be in the same place.”

"Touché." He watches the other man disappear beneath the surface of the water for a minute or so and then reappear a little closer to him. Dean swallows thickly as he recalls their earlier encounter.

Castiel pushes his long fingers through his own hair, combing the wet strands back from his face, his lips quirking at Dean's abrupt silence. "Am I intruding on your alone time?"

Dean quickly averts his eyes, feeling the heat return to his face as he finds himself fixated on a well-toned chest bathed in moonlight. He shrugs. "I, uh...I don't mind."

"Don't you?" Castiel prods, wading ever closer and drawing Dean's attention back to a fervent gaze.

Dean moves back to widen the space between them. "Dude, this is Texas. You have to watch what you do around here. It’s a good thing it was me you pulled that shit with, earlier. Do that with the wrong person and you could get your ass kicked pretty bad."

"Yes, that's true. But I wasn't wrong, was I?"

“What the hell makes you say that? Do I have a sign on my forehead that says I’m gay?” Dean's voice rises in volume a bit. Even though they’re far from his house he tries to keep it under control, just in case. “You don’t know a damn thing about me, Castiel. Hell, today is the most we’ve spoken since you started working here.”

“Oh,” Castiel says softly.

“Oh?” Dean spits out. “What the hell is _oh_?”

The other man tilts his head to the side, his eyes searching Dean’s before he says, “You’re not out.”

It’s not a question, and for some reason that irritates Dean even more. Honestly, it scares him a little. If someone who doesn’t really know him has figured it out after two weeks, who else knows? Dean’s not ashamed of his sexuality, he just knows that not everyone has an open mind. He’s been on the receiving end of a beat-down one too many times. He also knows his father isn’t as tolerant as he pretends to be. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

He takes off towards the shallow end of the creek.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean answers as he pulls himself up onto the bank and sits down.

Castiel makes a considering hum in response, following after him with a glint of something indecipherable to his eye. "Of course you don't."

Dean watches warily as Castiel advances, something in the way he moves stirring intrigue from an unfathomable place within.

When Castiel finally stands before him, water droplets clinging to the curves of his muscles, Dean fumbles to maintain what little of his resolve remains. Even though it hurts like a thousand shards of glass through his heart, he swallows the bile threatening to come up, and he lies.

"I like women."

It’s amazing how those three simple words are powerful enough to crush him all the way down to his soul, and he takes a shaky breath, trying to steady himself so he won’t break down.

The last time he had to utter them was a few years ago, when his dad started asking why he hadn’t brought a pretty girl around. The suspicion in John’s voice confirmed his worst fear, that his father knew he was gay, and he'd prepared himself for the storm brewing in his father’s eyes. He'd tried to brush off the unspoken question, but his dad had kept prodding him until he finally broke. Dean remembers the way acid churned in his stomach, how he'd wanted to puke as he spoke the words into existence. “I like women, Dad. I’m just too busy with school, basketball, and work around here.” Thankfully, John had left it at that and didn’t ask again.

Castiel’s eyes soften as he crouches low, settling a hand atop Dean's bent knee, running a thumb in small, comforting circles.

Dean’s body shakes slightly, but he’s unable to bring himself to pull away from the other man. “Why are you so sure you’re right?”

“Why do you always look at my lips, first, when I speak?” Castiel's hand moves from Dean’s leg to his shoulder, squeezing gently, reassuringly. “I apologize. I know I’ve come on strong, but you fluster so easily and I couldn’t help myself.” As the man’s thumb moves under Dean’s eyes, he realizes Castiel is brushing tears away. “You remind me so much of myself when I was your age.” 

“Please, stop,” Dean’s voice quakes as he speaks the words and he flicks his eyes away from the man in front of them. “I-I gotta go.”

Castiel moves back, standing up and offering a hand to help pull Dean up from the ground. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again. “It wasn’t my intention to upset you, Dean.”

“It’s fine, Castiel. No harm, no foul.” Dean moves over to his pile of clothes, quickly pulling on his shirt, wanting to be anywhere but here right now. Dean’s not mad at the man, he’s upset with himself and not really sure why. He hates the world he lives in because he has to hide who he truly is to make sure that he’s safe.

Slipping his feet into his flip-flops, Dean turns around to say something, anything, but finds himself unable to do so.

“Dean—” Castiel cuts himself off, chewing on his bottom lip, looking lost and unsure of what to say.

“Castiel, it’s okay, really. Don’t worry about it. We’re good.” He gives a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes before saying, “See you in the morning.”

With that, Dean turns and walks off towards his house. The whole way there, he’s lost in his own mind. Not once in either of his encounters with the older man had Cain been on his mind, and he’s not sure what that means, but now he wishes more than anything that he could call his boyfriend, just to hear his voice. Cain's always had a way of soothing Dean’s nerves.

Once Dean’s back in the safety of his house he sags against the front door for a few minutes, his head falling back to rest on the wood. Closing his eyes, he takes a few deep breaths to steady himself before returning the flashlight to the closet. Mindful of the floorboards that creak when stepped on, Dean moves, light-footed, through the living room. Before he turns to go up the stairs he notices a light coming from the kitchen, and he heads in that direction.

Sam is sitting at the table with a glass of milk in front of him, his hair in disarray on his head.

“Why are you up, Sammy?” Dean asks as he sits next to his brother. The bitch face from the younger boy makes him chuckle softly because Dean already knows the answer: the girls. 

Taking a drink of his milk, Sam cards his fingers through his hair before asking, “Why are _you_ awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep, decided to go for a swim.” He picks at a scratch in the table just to give him something to do, anything to keep his mind off what happened at the creek.

“Wanna talk about it, Dean?” Sam’s smile is soft, cautious, as he stands up and walks over to the fridge. His brother has always had some weird way of reading Dean. He’s never been able to hide anything from Sam. Plus the fact that Dean’s eyes are more than likely blood-shot from crying, and there are dried tear tracks on his face probably tipped Sam off, too.

Dean doesn’t answer him as he watches his brother pour another glass of milk and pull the pack of Oreo cookies from the cabinet. A real smile graces Dean’s face as Sam sets the items on the table in front of them. He used to do this for both of his siblings when they were younger and needed to talk. “Have I told you lately you’re the best little brother in the world, Sammy?”

Sam huffs a laugh before returning to his seat and taking a handful of cookies for himself. “Well, I had a pretty awesome person to teach me what to do.” 

Dean doesn’t tell him what happened with Castiel, but that’s okay, he doesn’t need to. The presence of his brother comforts him as they eat their cookies in silence. The soft ticking of the Grandfather clock in the living room and the hum of the appliances are the only sounds to be heard.  Maybe one day Dean will be able to live his life the way he wants. Until then, though, he’s thankful for the two members of his family who know and love him unconditionally.

He’s mentally exhausted as he crawls into bed later that night. It’s after midnight, but he’s ready to face whatever tomorrow will bring.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel the need to apologize for the length of time between chapters. I'm working on my DCBB and writing this at the same time. Add in the fact that my muse loves to flit away when I need her the most, or plant thousands of plot bunnies in my head when I need to focus and write. I really need to tie her down to a chair, but she'd probably enjoy that way too much. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and more will come soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the actual chapter :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for taking so long to get this chapter out to you. I was crazy busy with the DCBB and couldn't find the inspiration for what I feel is an important chapter. I have started on chapter 5 already, not sure when it will be out, but I'll try my best to not go another two months without an update. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Dean blinks awake in the darkness of his room, hearing thunder roar in the distance outside. Running a hand down his face, he stretches limbs that are still under his blanket and glances to the side of his room. The cot is empty; Charlie must have slept in her own room.

He doesn’t want to get out of bed, and it's so tempting to just roll back over and succumb to sleep once more, but he knows John will start banging on his door if Dean’s not downstairs in time for breakfast. And that thought, for some reason, sours Dean’s mood. The blankets tumble onto the floor when Dean flings them back, and he can’t find it in himself to care. He’s tired, and even though it’s storming outside he has things to do. Dean doesn't pay attention to the clothing he pulls out of his drawers before he exits his room and walks across the hall to the bathroom. Once inside, he takes a quick shower. The water's almost too cold to bear, but it’s just what he needs to wake himself up. 

After drying himself off and pulling on his clothes, Dean pads barefoot down the stairs and makes his way to the kitchen. Ellen's at the stove with her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, and she’s humming softly as she finishes up scrambling a half-dozen eggs. Dean gives her a small smile as he pours himself a cup of coffee, and he murmurs his thanks before sitting down at the table with his father. John only looks over the edge of his newspaper to acknowledge the presence of his son before going back to the article he’s reading. The patriarch rarely talks before he’s gotten two cups of java into his system.

Ellen places a plate piled high with eggs, bacon, and fried potatoes in front of Dean after doing the same for John before taking her seat.

Dean’s two bites into his breakfast when he hears his father clear his throat.

“Son, I’ve been thinking about all the hard work you do around here since the...the party.” John sets his fork down on the table and clasps his hands in front of him.

The mention of the recent cookout sends dread through Dean’s body. He remembers all too well the look on John’s face after the encounter with Castiel. His father hasn’t said anything about the ranch hand yet, but Dean is afraid John is waiting for something, some kind of proof before he does. The tension between them has been suffocating, and Dean is almost certain that everyone in the house has noticed it.

“Yeah?” He queries, wondering where his father is taking this conversation.

John nods as he takes a sip of his coffee, “You’ve worked since you were knee-high when I could get you to stop runnin' away from your chores. You really stepped up after your mama passed. I think you deserve a break.”

“What do you mean, a break?” Dean settles back in his chair. The word sounds foreign to him, and he doesn’t quite know what to say.

“I mean, take a Friday or Saturday off.”

“Why?”

Irritation flickers in John’s eyes at being questioned by his son, and Dean knows he really shouldn’t, but this doesn’t make sense to him. “You’re young, Dean. You need to go out and meet people.”

“Meet people?” Dean repeats; the phrase is heavy on his tongue. He’s not stupid, he knows by ‘people’ his father means women.

“Yes—”

“Why is this so important now?" He can’t help but interrupt his father. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but you always said the ranch came before dating or my friends. Anything to do with the family business was more important than running around like kids my age were doing.”

John pushes out a breath, “I did say that, yes.” 

“So, why now? Why the change?” Dean tries his best not to let his tone sound defensive when he questions his father. 

“I think it would be good for you to get out there with a pretty girl every now and then.”

Dean's shoulders tense, but he tries to hide it. He remains silent for a few minutes, the ticking of the clock in the kitchen sounds like a sonic boom in his ears. “I’m really not interested,” he says at last. 

John leans back against his chair, “Why not?”

Dean shrugs slightly, “It's just not high on my list of things to do right now."

John runs a hand through his hair, and Dean can tell that his dad’s tolerance for frustration is reaching its limit. “Dammit, Dean."

"Helping you run this place, being a good role model to Sam and Charlie, that’s what’s important. That's what I need to do.” He pushes his chair back, the sound of the legs scraping against the tile ringing loudly in the small kitchen. "That's what you taught me," Dean says before turning on his heels to leave the room.

John stands up and slaps his hand against the table, “Don’t you walk away from me, boy. You’ll show me some respect when I'm talking to you.”

Dean stops dead in his tracks, and turns around to face his father. There isn’t a time that he can remember actually standing up to John, but he isn’t backing down. “I respect you, Dad. I’ve always followed you, always.”

“Dean—” John moves to step away from the table, but Ellen stands up before he gets a chance to take the argument any further.

“John, let the boy go,” her tone is firm, and Dean knows they’ll probably exchange words after he’s gone. But he doesn’t wait around to find out.

The sky is charcoal, huge clouds heavy with rain scattered across it. The smell of wet earth fills Dean’s nose, and the taste of electricity is acidic in the back of his throat every time he inhales. It makes the hairs on his arms stand on end. The ground is damp where he stands, and thick, brown mud cakes Dean’s boots and jeans. Walking only splatters it everywhere. The forecast calls for more storms to roll in throughout the day, and it’s sure to get nasty. Dean would rather be in his room listening to music than working out in this weather, but he presses on, trying to wrangle the old barn into some sort of manageable order.

He stands at the open door, watching lightning streak across the sky. He finds it fitting considering the current state of his emotions; the argument with his father is still weighing heavily on his mind. To add to that, he believes his emotions are running high because he hasn’t been able to talk to Cain since his boyfriend left a month ago.

He knew this would happen. They only get a few phone calls the whole ten-week stay, and it makes sense for Cain to call his parents instead of Dean. If he were to call Dean at the house that would only add to John’s suspicions. That’s something Dean definitely doesn’t need. But that doesn't stop Dean from wanting to speak to the boy, even a few minutes would help. Cain is, after all, the closest he has to a best friend outside of his siblings. He misses his boyfriend more than he thought he would.    

Classic rock plays softly in the background on an old battery-powered radio he found among all the other crap. Usually music soothes his nerves, allows his mind to slip away, but today it’s just noise and that seems to piss him off worse. So much so, that when Castiel walks into the barn, drenched from the rain, Dean decides to ignore the man. Castiel hasn’t done anything wrong, but Dean’s in a foul mood and he knows he’s liable to pick a fight just for the sake of fighting if given the chance. What Dean really needs is a punching bag, something he can hit hard and get out all of his aggression.

“You want to take the top and I’ll take the bottom?” Castiel asks from behind him.

Dean’s so caught off guard by the question that he turns around slowly.

He immediately regrets the decision as his eyes land on the other man’s toned, tan,  _bare_  chest.

“Uh,” Dean replies eloquently.

 _What was the question? Was there a question at all?_ Dean tries in vain to bring his gaze up to meet Castiel eye-to-eye, even as his gaze slides down to the jeans slung low on Castiel’s beautiful hipbones. The sight alone makes Dean’s mouth water, and he wants to reach out and touch them, wants to see if they feel as sharp as they look.

A soft laugh coming from Castiel breaks Dean’s concentration on the man’s body. His eyes finally snap up to the blue ones now dancing with humor.

“Something funny here, Chuckles?”

“Not at all, Dean,” the man answers. “It’s just that I’ve asked you several questions, yet that’s the one that got your attention.”

“I heard you. I’m not deaf. I just chose not to answer,” Dean lies; he hasn’t heard a single word the man has said, but he’s not going to tell Castiel that.

“Ah. I didn’t get the memo you were ignoring me today, my apologies. Next time I’ll make sure to check my inbox.”

Dean rolls his eyes, “Smartass.”

“That I am. Now back to my question, you want to take the upper level while I tackle the mess down here?” Castiel gestures with a wave of his hand.

“Whatever.” Pushing himself off of the doorframe, Dean walks over to the ladder.

“What is your problem, Dean?”

“Your face is my problem.” Dean knows the comeback is lame and he could’ve come up with a better one, but now that it’s out he can’t take it back.

“Is that so?” Castiel tilts his head to the side as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Yeah. That’s so, Cas.”

Castiel arches an eyebrow and one corner of his mouth lifts in the suggestion of a smile. “Cas?”

“Don’t change the subject here.”

“What subject?" Castiel asks, waving his arms around in frustration. "Frankly, I’m lost as to why you’re being petty and trying to pick a fight. Did I do something wrong? Are you  _intentionally_ being an asshole today?”

“Forget I said anything," Dean replies. He's tired from the emotional rollercoaster he’s been on since the party and the only thing he wants to do now is work on his chores so he can get the day over with. "I’ll take the top. You do whatever you want down here.” 

“Dean, I’m trying to figure this out. We have to work together and I would like to do that without any problems.”

“I don’t have a problem with you, Cas.”

“Really? Because it seems like you do.”

“I’ve just had a bad morning is all. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

The man chews on his bottom lip for a few seconds before asking, “Could it be because you find me attractive?”

Dean scoffs as he rolls his eyes, “In your dreams, I’m not attracted to you.”

Castiel just gives a soft hum in reply, and begins walking slowly in Dean’s direction. As he gets closer, Dean starts backing up, he could easily get out of the man’s way by climbing the ladder, but his attention is focused on Castiel. As soon as he’s in Dean’s personal space, the ranch hand pins Dean against the wood, boxing him in with his arms. Dean swallows hard, his brain not processing what’s happening. He’s not scared in the least, because for some reason he fully trusts that Castiel wouldn't hurt him.

Castiel’s warm breath on the shell of his ear is unexpected, and his eyes slip closed in response as the man presses closer to him, the space between their bodies rapidly becoming nonexistent. He can hear Castiel’s voice, but not what the man’s saying, because Dean’s fighting an internal war with his body not to respond to Castiel. So far, he’s losing horribly. It would be so easy just to tilt his head back and allow the man to do as he pleases.

It’s when he opens his eyes again and looks into Castiel’s that he realizes they are the wrong shade of blue.

That fact snaps him back to reality, and he finally gets his brain back on track. He takes his hands, and lightly pushes Castiel away from him.

“Are you done?” Dean hates when he hears the shake to his voice, but he doesn’t focus on that. He sets his eyes on the far wall, not wanting to look at the man in front of him. When Castiel moves back to give him space, Dean steps to the side and says, “I think it’s obvious that you’re the one attracted to me.”

Castiel shrugs. “I’ve never denied that fact,” the words are spoken softly. 

“Yeah, well, I’m not single.” With that, Dean climbs the ladder and gets to work on organizing the boxes. 

Dust tickles Dean’s nose, and a bead of sweat rolls down his temple while he sorts through a massive box of his and Sam's old baby clothes. He doesn’t know why his mother kept them. Charlie was the child that completed their family, so it’s not as if his mom had been planning on having another, at least that Dean was aware of.

He carefully places the items back in the box and closes it up, setting it off the side to be donated if his father gives the go-ahead. He’s not sure what time it is, all he knows is that his knees hurt from the position he’s been in for the last thirty minutes or so. Dean sits back on his ass and stretches his legs in front of him, and his stomach decides to growl loudly at the same time. He knows he should get up and go find something to eat, but he’s not moving anytime soon.

There’s a smaller box within reach that he’s been avoiding this entire time, but instead of leaving it be, he pulls it closer to himself. On the top, written in black marker, is the word ‘pictures’ in Mary’s handwriting.  Dean carefully opens the lid and peers inside. Several loose Polaroids lie on top of laminated photo albums, and he grabs those first.  Some of them are of his grandparents on both sides of the family. There are more than a few of John and Mary when they first met. There’s even one of the day his dad bought the Impala: Mary and John stand together before it, his mother heavily pregnant with him.

The image makes Dean smile softly. He pushes those to the side and reaches back in a second time, grabbing another handful. Thumbing through those, he comes upon one with him sitting in his mother’s lap. They have matching smiles on their faces and in one of his hands, he's grabbed a lock of her blonde hair. An ache inside of Dean grows with each passing picture. When he comes across one with his mom, Sam, Charlie, and himself, he tucks it into his back pocket.

The next one is just of his mother, the picture taken of her mid-laugh, and the sun is shining down on her. She reminds him of an angel, and he runs his fingers lightly over her face.

“She’s beautiful,” Cas voices comes from his right side, and even though Dean didn’t hear him he manages not to jump.

“Yes, she was,” he agrees, his voice so soft that he’s not sure if the man has heard him.

“How old were you?” Cas asks as he sits down near Dean. “When she passed away?” He clarifies.

Dean looks up from the picture, staring at the wall in front of him. He doesn’t normally talk about his mother with anyone other than his immediate family. It's not because he doesn’t want to; he loves talking about her because when he does, it feels like she’s still with him. It’s just that he can’t seem to do her memory justice when he describes the sound of her laughter, or the gentle but firm tone she used when she would reprimand her children, or how soft her hands were when she would clean their scrapes and bruises.

“I was twelve and a half when she was diagnosed with breast cancer,” he starts as he repositions himself on the floor to get comfortable. “I can remember the day she told us. Even though I didn’t understand fully what she meant, I knew it wasn’t good. My parents sat me down that night after Sam and Charlie were in bed and explained it to me. Told me there was a chance she might not get better. Mom told me she'd fight with everything in her, and she did.”

Dean runs a hand through his hair as he says, “She went into remission when I was a little over thirteen, and we thought she was out of the woods. Mom started gaining weight and her hair was growing back in, but after my fourteenth birthday she found out the cancer was back. This time, it was worse, and it had spread.”

Castiel remains silent while Dean talks, but he’s sitting so close to Dean that he can hear the man’s breath and feel the heat coming off of his body. It calms him in a way nothing has before, and Dean’s not sure he understands why. He inhales deeply and presses on, “She held on for ten months after that, and then…” he trails off, unable to finish the sentence.

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” Castiel speaks the words quietly, as if he understands the weight that's now sitting on Dean’s chest threatening to suffocate him. They remain silent for quite some time, the music playing softly from the lower level filling the void.

“She was my best friend,” Dean says at last, and then places the pictures back where he got them.

Maybe one day he can come back out and organize the loose ones. Today is not that day.

Standing up, Dean picks up the box and places it high on a shelf. He turns around, “Lunch sounds good right about now. I think dad and the others went into town, but I can make a mean triple-decker sandwich if you’re interested.”

The older man smiles and picks himself off the ground, “You don’t have to do that, Dean. I can throw together something for myself.”

Dean shrugs, “Suit yourself. The offer still stands, though. I, uh... I was kind of a dick to you.”

Castiel arches a brow, “Kind of?”

“Yup,” Dean says in reply before he turns on his heel and makes his way back down the ladder.

Outside of the barn, the rain has let up, but Dean can tell the storm is amping up for more. As he turns the corner, he sees several of the horses out of the stable. Charlie and Sam were supposed to put them back in their stalls before leaving.

He walks back around and stops at the door, “Hey, Cas, can you give me a hand with the horses? Apparently, my brother and sister didn’t bother stalling 'em before they left.”

“Of course, Dean.” Castiel takes his shirt from where it's been hanging out of his back pocket and puts it on, leaving it unbuttoned.

At Castiel’s nod, they walk out to the pasture in silence. Dean lets Castiel take the two younger horses, Anubis and Bast, inside. They have a calm nature and Dean knows they won’t give the man any trouble.  Dean leads Phantom inside and places her in the stall before going back out to find Reaper; the black stallion is his, and can be temperamental when he’s spooked.

Dean finds the horse out by his favorite tree in the field. Reaper looks calm as Dean approaches him, but he knows to be cautious as he reaches out to run a hand softly over the animal's flank. The horse nudges Dean’s shoulder with his head, and he can’t help but chuckle as he whispers praises to Reaper. He spends a few minutes just talking to him before he attempts to lead the horse back inside.

As they near the stables, Dean lets go of Reaper's halter for a moment. A loud crack of thunder makes Dean jump, and lightning flashes across the sky. Dean turns around just in time to see Reaper rear back on his hind legs, and he side-steps quickly out of the way to keep from getting hurt, but his right foot slips in mud and he twists his ankle in the process. Pain shoots through his leg, and he lets out a string of curses as he falls heavily to the ground.

Dean blinks up at the sky, feeling that he's now covered in mud, and he bites his lip when he tries to move his foot and is rewarded by another shock of pain for his efforts. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply for several minutes, trying to get his bearings. He’s not sure how much time has passed, but the rain-soaked earth continues to seep through his jeans. Dean doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry.

“Dean?” He hears Castiel’s voice, and when he opens his eyes again he can see the man standing above him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m peachy, Cas,” he quips. “I’ve heard mud baths do wonders for your skin, so here I am.”

“Smart ass,” the other man actually rolls his eyes as he pushes the leg of Dean’s jeans up. Gently, Castiel turns Dean’s foot to get a good look at it. “Looks like you sprained it, it’s already turning purple. We should get you to the hospital to make sure.”

“No,” he shakes his head as he says the word. “No hospitals.”

“Dean, you could’ve fractured it. We won’t know without x-rays.” 

“I said no hospitals, Cas. I don’t like them. It’s a sprain, nothin' more.”

“You can’t know that for sure,” Castiel says, clearly trying to reason with him.

“I’m fine, I’ve had worse,” Dean explains as he works himself into a sitting position. His eyes scan the surrounding area looking for his horse.

Dean’s pretty sure he hears Castiel mutter the words  _stubborn ass_  under his breath, but he ignores it to ask, “Where’s Reaper?”

“He’s safe in his stall.”

With a pained smile, Dean asks, “Help me up, please?” 

Castiel takes his hand and helps him to his feet. Dean’s fine until the ranch hand puts Dean’s arm over his shoulder and they attempt to walk slowly back to the house. One step in and pain starts coursing up from his sprained ankle, and he grunts with the movement. After a few more similarly unsuccessful steps, Castiel begins cursing quietly under his breath, and faster than he can process it Dean finds himself being picked up and carried bridal-style.

“Put me down,” Dean growls. “I can walk just fine.”

“Bullshit,” Castiel argues back. “It’s too far of a walk and you could make yourself worse. That’s not happening on my watch.”

“Dammit, Castiel. I said I’m fine. Now put me down.”

“Would you quit being stubborn?” Castiel says as he continues walking. “We can do this one of two ways—”

“You’re the one who's stubborn,” Dean cuts him off and starts squirming, making it harder for the man to keep him secured in his arms.

Castiel stops and places him back on the ground, but before Dean can move away Castiel grabs him around the waist and throws him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “I said we can do this one of two ways, and this is option two. Now stop bitching, princess, and let me get you back to the house.” 

“I’m going to kick your ass if you don’t let me down.”

“I’d like to see you try, sweetheart.”

“I hate you,” Dean mutters before slapping Castiel on the ass and he would kick him if Dean wasn’t afraid of being dropped on his head. 

A deep chuckle comes from Castiel that sends vibrations through Dean's body. “No, you don’t.”

After a few steps, all the fight leaves Dean’s body as he realizes Castiel’s isn’t going to let him walk, so Dean resigns himself to watch the ground go by.  And he can't help but wonder if this day could get any worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Hannah, for being an amazing editor as always.  
> Melanie, Angi, and Dean, thank you for reading over this chapter and putting up with my craziness. 
> 
> Thoughts?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no excuse for the delay of this chapter. I just couldn't find the inspiration so I picked away at it as much as I could every day. I hope you enjoy it!

Thunder booms outside of the one bedroom cabin loud enough to make the windows rattle as Dean is tossed into Castiel's bed, landing with a bounce that makes the springs squeal in protest.

“Dude, I’m wet, covered in mud, and this isn’t my house,” Dean points out, and if there’s a little whine to his voice, then so be it; he’s soaked, cold, and in pain.

“I’m aware, Dean,” Castiel says with a shake of his head as he turns around and walks away a few feet, crouching down to dig around in a drawer of his dresser. “The sheets can be washed.”

When he finds what he’s looking for, he moves back over to the bed. In his hands are a shirt, a pair of sweats, and an Ace bandage. Handing the clothing to Dean, Castiel offers, “I can help if you need me to.”

At first, Dean declines Castiel’s help, but getting out of his wet jeans proves to be a struggle, and he eventually gives in. Even with the ranch hand’s help, getting into the clean clothes is somewhat of an event. At least Castiel has the decency to avert his eyes when they strip Dean out of his boxers.

Once dressed, Castiel takes the sheets off the bed and then commands Dean to sit down. When he leans back against the headboard, the scent of fresh cinnamon with an underlying note of lemon tickles Dean’s nose. He knows the cinnamon comes from Castiel, although he’s clueless as to what the man wears to make him smell that way. Dean’s so used to it now that he thinks he'll always associate cinnamon with the older man.

Taking in the space around him, Dean notices there's a large bookshelf resting up against one wall that wasn’t there before Castiel moved in. It’s filled with books lined up in what looks to be alphabetical order. There's a small but adequate kitchen partitioned off farther back in the room, complete with a table and chairs. Dean remembers Mary picking out the new furniture when he was around ten years of age. Tucked off in another corner is a full-sized oak desk with a reading lamp sitting atop it. A frown crosses Dean’s face when he realizes there are little to no personal effects in the entire place; he can’t help but wonder if Castiel doesn’t feel at home here.

A flash of lightning outside the window grabs Dean’s attention, and the lights in the cabin flicker and go out.

“Shit,” Castiel says before walking to the kitchen and rooting around in the cabinets. “I know there are candles in here somewhere.”

“Top-left drawer by the fridge,” Dean answers. “That’s where my mom kept 'em. I’m sure there are new ones in there, Dad and Ellen are good about keeping those stocked. Holders are in the drawer under it.”

“Thank you,” Castiel says in response as he pulls open the correct drawer.

When the man turns back around, he has a handful of candles and one of holders, and proceeds to place them in different areas throughout the room, lighting them as he goes before setting two on the bedside table. With those lit, Castiel sits down on the opposite end of the bed, gently lifting Dean’s injured leg and placing it in his lap. He pushes the hem of his sweatpants back as far as he can.

“I can take care of myself, Cas,” Dean says petulantly. His eyes track every move the other man makes as he carefully turns Dean’s ankle to survey how bad the sprain is. Dean’s never noticed until now what beautiful hands Castiel has. They’re obviously strong, but gentle. He hisses his displeasure as the man's long, soft fingers graze over a tender spot.

“I’m well aware of the fact that you’re capable of doing this yourself,” is all Castiel says in response as he starts wrapping Dean’s foot with the Ace Bandage.“If I had to guess, I would say it’s a stage-two sprain. I’ve dealt with a few of those myself. I still wish you would get x-rays, though, just to be sure.”

“Don’t need them,” Dean answers. His leg is still in Castiel’s lap, but he doesn’t bother to move it.

Castiel huffs out a laugh, and Dean’s sure it’s not in humor as much as it is in frustration. “Yes, you made that quite clear earlier. It’s just my opinion. Not all doctors are bad.”

“I never said they were, Cas,” Dean says with a slight roll of his eyes.

“You’re infuriating,” the man says as he shakes his head and pulls the leg of Dean’s borrowed sweatpants back down. “Hand me a pillow?”

Dean grabs one and tosses to Castiel, who places on the bed and then rests Dean’s foot on it.

“I hope your family is okay, Dean. The storm seems to be gearing up for another round.”

Dean places his hand on the back of his neck. “I’m sure they are. If anything, they probably went to Bobby’s until it lets up.”

The man nods before he gets up and walks over to the door. After opening it, he leans against the frame while digging in his pocket, and soon produces a pack of cigarettes and lights one. Dean watches as Castiel takes a long drag before slowly exhaling the toxic smoke. He’s never been one for smoking himself, but has several friends who do.

When another booming crack of thunder roars outside, Dean clearly sees Castiel’s body stiffen in response before the man starts chewing on his bottom lip.

“Storms bother you, Cas?” Dean asks him.

With his attention still focused on the falling rain, Castiel says softly, “Just the thunder.”

Dean nods even though the ranch hand can’t see him. “Yeah, I wasn’t a fan of storms myself when I was younger. Mom told me once that I had a hiding spot when it'd thunder when I was three or four years old.”

He doesn’t know why he’s telling this story, but he shifts up high on the bed to get comfortable. “The first time it happened, I scared the crap out of her. She didn’t know where I'd gone, and she was running around the house calling my name. Dad even went outside looking for me.”

A laugh escapes him as he remembers his mom telling him the story. She had a smile on her face, but Dean could hear the fear in her voice when she had thought he'd disappeared. _“I knew then that you would be a handful, Dean. You would always keep me on my toes.”_

“Where were you?” Castiel inquires.

The question startles Dean a little, and when he looks up, he realizes he now has Castiel’s full attention. He grins, “Curled up under the staircase with my favorite stuffed animal, fast asleep.”

The man just nods his head, a soft smile on his face. “I'm not surprised that you scared her.”

“I may have also had a habit of hiding when I didn't want to do chores,” Dean admits.

Castiel laughs. “My parents wouldn't have stood for that.”

“What are they like?” In the time Castiel has been on the ranch, Dean’s never once heard him mention his relatives.

Shrugging a shoulder, the man looks out at the rain again. “They’re like any other family, I suppose. We’re just not exactly…close anymore.”

Dean can tell Castiel isn’t exactly comfortable, so he decides to drop it. “‘m sorry I brought up a sore subject.”

“It’s fine, Dean,” Castiel says as he exhales more smoke from his cigarette. “My father, James Novak, is a highly respected man in Illinois.”

The name sounds familiar and Dean tries to place where he’s heard it. “James Novak,” his brow furrows, “why do I know that name?”

Castiel's eyes flicker in Dean’s direction, a half-smile on his face that looks entirely false, even to Dean. “He’s a Senator.”

Dean brow arches as he asks, “Senator James Novak is your dad?”  

“You’ve heard of him?”  

 With a nod of his head, Dean answers, “Dad watches the news. I’ve caught his name here and there a few times.”

“Mmmm,” Castiel hums as he turns his attention back to the storm raging outside. “It was so surreal growing up in his shadow. He did his very best to keep us children out of the spotlight, and he succeeded. My father had high hopes that I would follow in his footsteps; I was groomed to do so.”

“What changed?” Dean asks curiously. Considering the man is standing in this cabin daddy Novak’s plans obviously didn’t come to fruition.

“I decided to follow my older brothers’ path instead.” Castiel sighs as he flicks his cigarette out the door, but he doesn’t move from the spot. “Michael and Luke were in their early teens when their mother passed, and our father married my mother two years later. I’ve heard stories of how they doted on my twin sister, Hannah, and I when we were born.”

“You have a twin?” There's an incredulous tone to his question.

Castiel chuckles slightly, the smile that graces his face is genuine this time, with a touch of sadness. “I do, yes.” The man pushes himself off the doorframe and walks over to the bed. Dean scoots over without being prompted to make room, and Castiel sits down beside him. Dean doesn’t miss the way their shoulders brush against each other.

“Hannah and I were spoiled rotten by our brothers. We had their full attention anytime they were home.” Castiel continues. “They loved us very much.”

“Loved?” Dean asks, and hopes that doesn’t mean what he thinks it means, but the slight hitch in Castiel’s breath answers his question before the man speaks it into the air surrounding them. It’s like a punch in the gut, and Dean’s heart aches for him.

“Shortly before our fourth birthday, Michael and Luke enlisted in the Army. Our mother, Tessa, said that Hannah and I were heartbroken when they left.”

Another little smile crosses Castiel’s face as he stares across the room. “She tried to explain it to us as best as she could. Apparently, after telling us I started marching around the house like a little soldier.”

Dean laughs; the image of four-year-old Cas playing soldier is more adorable than it should be. He can easily picture a little Castiel stoically walking around. 

“We had just turned five when the news arrived that our brothers were missing in action. Another year passed before we got confirmation that they weren’t returning home. Prisoners of war, they didn’t make it.” Castiel says softly.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean says softly as he brushes their shoulders together and stays that way, leaning lightly against Castiel. He hopes that the touch offers comfort to the other man the way it does for him.

“I enlisted the day I turned eighteen. When I broke the news to my family, my father wasn’t happy.”

Dean turns his face to look fully at Castiel. The man is chewing on his lower lip again, and Dean has to fight the urge to reach out and stop him from doing it. “So, what happened?” 

“He gave me an ultimatum, the Army or them. We haven’t spoken since that day. Mother did write while I was away, but the letters eventually stopped. I figured Father had a hand in that. It took me a few years and a lot of anger, but I’ve made peace with it.”

“And your sister?” Dean finds himself asking. It’s a concept he can’t firmly grasp. No matter what, he knows in his heart of hearts that nothing would come between him and his siblings. He’s been truly blessed with them and would never take them for granted. 

Castiel pulls his legs up and crosses them, his thigh now a warm line against Dean’s own. “After I was discharged, it took awhile, but Hannah and I did get in contact again through emails. If everything pans out, I’ll see her around the holidays this year. She’s living in New York now, with a small family of her own.”

“That’s great, Cas,” Dean responds honestly, feeling a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.  A thought pops into Dean’s head, and he remembers Ellen telling his dad that she’s known Castiel since he was younger. It prompts him to ask, “So, how does your family know Ellen?”

The man finally looks at Dean, tilting his head to the side he answers, “She’s my second cousin on my mother’s side. Our family owned a house downtown, and we would vacation here during the summer. I actually stayed for a year to attend school here when I was fourteen.”

“Ellen’s good people.”

 A small huff of laughter escapes Castiel, “That she is.”

In an attempt to change the subject, and because he’s curious, Dean asks, “What was your MOS?” Being raised by John, Dean learned some of the lingo the military uses.

“68 Whiskey,” Castiel says proudly before clarifying: “I was a combat medic.”

“That explains a lot, actually,” Dean comments, a sly smile crosses his face. “Did you like your job?”

“Very much.” Castiel stretches out and rests his head back on the wall. “I enjoy helping people, nursing them back to health.”

With that, the conversation turns to lighter topics. They share their interests, and Dean learns they have a lot in common. They both enjoy classic rock with the occasional step into the alternative and harder rock side. Bands such as Kansas, The Beetles, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Nirvana, and Pearl Jam are a few of their favorites.

Reading is pastime they enjoy and Castiel tells Dean that he is welcomed to borrow from his collection. Dean eyes the bookshelf and can see a few titles that he’s sure he’ll enjoy. There are a few that’s he’s read and would love to read again; Catcher in the Rye, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Outsiders, Lord of the Flies to name a few. Dean even notices the entire Harry Potter collection. Even though he does struggle with his dyslexia, he won’t let that stop him from taking a book or two. 

A couple hours later the power flicks back on, and Castiel walks around the room blowing the candles out. Realizing they didn’t eat, Castiel makes a quick lunch of tomato soup with rice and grilled cheese. Dean mentions that his mother used to make the same thing for him when he was sick, and with the resurgence of the memory a feeling of warmth surrounds him; he can’t help smiling while he eats every bite. He thanks Castiel as the man takes the empty bowl back to the kitchen, and turns down the offer of seconds. So this is what it feels like to be taken care of. If he’s honest with himself, it feels nice, good even, especially since it’s normally him playing caretaker. Dean could get used to this, even though he won’t admit it out loud.

Dean can honestly say this is the first time in a long time that he’s enjoyed sitting around, just talking with someone other than his family and a small group of friends. He barely remembers what it feels like to just relax and be himself. It feels like a load has been taken off his shoulders.

It’s still raining outside, and the _tap tap tap_ of it on the windows is making him tired.

“Feel up for another hand of poker?” Castiel asks when he sits back down on the bed. They started playing before eating and just finished their fifth hand.

“Nah, I’m good,” Dean answers, allowing his head to fall back against the wall. “Besides, I’m convinced you’re a cheat.”

Castiel huffs a laugh and shakes a head at Dean. “Or it could be because I’m better at bluffing than you.”

“No one can out-bluff me.” Dean’s eyes slip closed, and the silence that surrounds them is comfortable, peaceful even. Just as Dean’s body relaxes, his cell phone goes off where it’s resting on the table Cas set it on earlier. The man hands Dean his phone, and he swipes his thumb across the screen; it’s a text from Sam.

Sam: _We’re stuck out at Bobby’s, creek overflowed and washed out the road._

You: _Not surprising y’all be safe._

“Well, looks like I’ll have the house to myself,” Dean says casually as he pushes the button on his phone to make the screen go dark again.

“Oh?”

“Bobby lives about twenty minutes from here, and the creek on his property overflowed. It usually happens in bad storms.” Dean looks out the window, when did it get so dark?

“I’m glad they’re safe,” the other man says.

Dean hums in response, allowing his eyes to close once more. It’s been a hell of a day, and he’s ready for the end of it. All he wants to do is crawl into his bed and sleep for three weeks. Or for a month. Yeah, a month sounds good right about now.

“I can help you get back to the house, if you’d like,” Castiel offers.

“I can make it,” Dean starts to argue, but at the look on Castiel’s face, he knows the man won’t give up so easy.

“Dean—”

“Fine,” Dean interrupts. “We need to check on the animals first, though.”

“You know I can do that myself, but for some reason, I’m sure you won’t listen.”

Dean can’t help rolling his eyes as he takes Cas’ proffered hand and pulls himself off of the bed. When he puts all his weight on his injured ankle, Dean groans in frustration. This won’t be an easy trip, and he’s thankful for Castiel’s help. 

It’s chilly outside when they step off the porch, and the rain has let up to a light mist. Both men are careful to watch where they step so neither face-plants in the mud; Dean would rather not fall again, thank you very much. Castiel helps him to the inside of the stable and Dean makes it over to Reaper. He leans his forehead against the animal and softly runs his hand over his flank. Reaper stands still as Dean whispers praises to him. It’s not the horse’s fault that Dean sprained his ankle, it’s all a part of the job and really, he knew better.

Both men brush the animals and make sure they’re fed for the night before walking back out into the open. It’s much darker now, and Dean has to strain his eyes to see where he’s going. If he leans on Castiel a little more than usual, well, the man hasn’t said anything, so Dean won’t either.

They’re almost to the porch when Dean hears the motor of a vehicle pulling up around the back. It can’t be John, because Dean knows his father would wait until morning before attempting to leave Bobby’s. He shoots Castiel a glance before shrugging and taking off in that direction with the ranch hand close behind him. Dean makes it around the house and sees a black car that he recognizes immediately as Mrs. Adamson’s, but Cain’s mother isn’t the person that exits the vehicle. No, it’s Cain’s older sister, Ava. 

Dean finds it a little odd, because he hasn’t seen Ava since she graduated a year ahead of him and took off for college. Cain isn’t due back for a couple more weeks, so that provokes Dean’s curiosity. He takes in the brunette’s appearance: her hair is a mess and her lipstick is smeared a little, her eyes bloodshot. As she steps closer, Dean can see tear tracks on her face. She collapses in Dean’s arms, and he has to brace himself to keep them both standing; he ignores the pain in his ankle.

Ava starts mumbling into Dean’s shirt, and he rubs soothing circles over her back and whispers into her hair. He feels lost, and he needs her to breathe deeply and calm down so he can find out what’s happened.

“Ava, what’s wrong?” He asks as he pulls back and wipes tears from her face. 

Raising her hand, the woman wipes her nose on her jacket sleeve, the other hand still clutched tightly in his shirt.

“Are your parents okay?” He asks quietly.  

Ava shakes her head as she says through tears, “It’s not them.” Her voices breaks, and she presses her face back into Dean’s chest.

He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say because he doesn’t know what’s wrong but has a feeling he isn’t going to like it.

Dread washes over him as he hears her words, finally. His stomach drops, his knees go weak and he has to keep himself and Ava from falling. His brain doesn’t want to accept her words, because it can’t be true, it just can’t. Dean’s mouth goes dry, his throat feels like it’s closing up on him. His eyes sting and he’s thankful for the falling mist that will surely hide the fact tears are rolling down his cheek. He feels Castiel’s hand on his shoulder, grounding him, giving him the strength that he desperately needs but can’t muster in this moment.   

Ava speaks it into existence once again. “It’s Cain. He’s gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the wonderful people who beta read this for me. Also to my amazing editor who always gives me the push I need to write. 
> 
> Question? Comments? I truly hope you are liking this so far. 
> 
> Oh, and if anyone finds my muse, make sure to tie her down for me.


	6. Chapter 6

_ _

_“It was an accident,” Nick told Dean as they stood in the hallway of the hospital. The bright lights were harsh against Dean’s bloodshot eyes, making them burn._

_“A bullet…” the man’s voice broke. He inhaled deeply and licked his upper lip to catch a stray tear before continuing. “It ricocheted during a training exercise, hit him in the leg. There were complications after…they tried to save him…”_

Dean slowly walks into his room, still wearing the suit he put on for Cain’s funeral. Reaching up, he loosens the tie around his neck and takes it off, tossing the strip of material across the room. His bones are tired and his mind feels as if there's a fog hanging over it. He runs a hand over his face, simply standing in the middle of the room after closing his door. With a long exhale, Dean trudges over to his bed, sinking down onto it, and his head hits against the headboard with a thunk.

Cain’s service was beautiful, but there isn’t much that Dean remembers of it or what was said in his boyfriend’s memory. He couldn’t pay attention when anyone spoke, it was as if his brain muffled their words. When Mrs. Adamson stepped up to the pulpit and began to talk about Cain's childhood, Dean’s attention focused on the flower arrangement lying on Cain’s coffin. The white lilies were gorgeous, but one of them had a black spot on it, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He stared at the blemish until his vision began to blur.

Death and loss are things Dean is well-acquainted with. He was young when he lost his grandparents, and Charlie’s parents he lost at age eleven. The hardest thing Dean’s ever had to face was losing his mother. Though he had warning she would pass, it didn’t prepare him for how he would hurt in her absence, nor did it prepare him for the gaping hole in his heart that he still carries to this day.

He allows his eyes to slip closed, and they itch so Dean presses his palms against them, color blooming sharply behind the lids. He hasn’t been able to sleep much since hearing the news, and when he did sleep, it was shallow and he would wake up exhausted. He wants nothing more than to go to sleep and not wake up for days, and he could probably get away with it. He knows no one will disturb him today. 

His hands drop away from his face and he opens his eyes. The band posters on the wall in front of him appear fuzzy a bit and it takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust. Dean moves off the bed and makes his way over to his dresser to pull out a pair of soft gray sweatpants. From his closet, he grabs a t-shirt and then starts stripping. His movements are mechanical and he’s grateful the action doesn’t require any brain power.

Once he’s dressed, Dean goes back to his bed and burrows under the blanket. Darkness and warmth surround him, his body relaxes, and his breathing evens out. His last thought before he drifts off to sleep is the last time he saw Cain, of the smile on his face and the way his blue eyes sparkled as Dean leaned in to kiss him goodbye before getting in the car and driving off.

A few hours later, Dean wakes up to a light tapping on the door. At first, he doesn’t say anything, just stares up at the ceiling, slowly blinking away the dream he awoke from. The tapping doesn’t stop, however, and becomes more of a knock. Dean wants to tell the person to go away, but instead, he pushes himself up on his elbow and grunts out a response. The door opens enough to allow Charlie and Sam to slip inside before closing it back.

“We made you a snack,” his sister says as she walks closer to him. The plate in her hand has apple slices with peanut butter on them. “It’s your favorite,” Charlie singsongs the last word.

“I’m not hungry.” His stomach growls at the smell of the treat at the same time that it twists and a wave of nausea washes over him.

“You missed dinner.” Sam shifting from one foot to the other catches Dean’s attention, and he flicks his eyes to his brother. “Will you try for us, please?” Sam asks as he hands Dean a glass of milk. 

The pleading in Sam’s voice along with the puppy dog eyes breaks Dean’s resolve, and he pulls up the rest of the way and settles against the headboard. The fruit tastes like cardboard as he pops it into his mouth and begins to chew.  He manages to choke down about six slices before he pushes the plate away. Dean can see the worried look in his sibling’s eyes, but he doesn’t comment on it. He knows they mean well.

“We can go to Barton for a swim,” Sam offers with an unsure smile on his face.

Dean hates to let his brother down, but he still doesn’t feel up to doing anything more than sleeping. “Maybe some other time,” he offers, hoping that it will lessen the disappointment.

“If you need to talk,” Charlie places her hand over his, “we’re here for you.”

He knows the words are true; his siblings would listen to him until he couldn’t talk any longer. They’ve always been the best support system he’s had. They attended the funeral, one on each side of him, lending him the strength he needed.

“I’m fine.” Dean knows they can see right through the lie, but thankfully, they don’t push him. Instead, they tell him goodnight and leave the room after hugging him.

Once again, he wraps himself up in the blanket and lies back, staring at the ceiling. He turns his head to the left, seeing the light from the moon as it catches the silver chain hanging from a nail on his wall. Dean shifts onto his side, reaching up to run his fingers over the small crucifix at the end of the necklace. Cain’s mother gave it to him before the funeral. At first, Dean had told her she should keep it, but she insisted that her son would want him to have it and that Cain was wearing it the day he passed.

He wraps his palm around the cross, giving it a squeeze before letting it go. Dean isn’t a man of faith, but Cain was. It’s the only thing he has left to remember his boyfriend by. If there is a Heaven, maybe one day Dean will see Cain and his mother again. With that thought, Dean grabs his pillow, clutching it to his chest and closing his eyes. He sends up a quiet goodnight to his mother and Cain before drifting off to sleep.

The sunlight is bright against his eyes, and he lowers his head as he walks the field. The sound of birds chirping, opossums screeching, and squirrels scurrying around him are nothing but a buzz in his ears, and he desperately wants to find refuge away from it all. His legs are heavy as they carry him towards the old barn, and he’s out of breath by the time he opens the door and slips inside. Dean closes the door behind him and rests his head against the wood. He’s young and in great shape, walking from the house shouldn’t exhaust him.

He needs something to take his mind off everything that’s happened the last couple of weeks since the funeral. Dean makes his way to the back of the barn. There, under a blue tarp, sits his grandfather’s truck. He pulls back the cover and suppresses the urge to sneeze when dust and dirt kick up in wake of the movement. To an outsider, this is just an old farm truck, with its paint peeling and rust spotting it. To Dean, though, it’s the only thing he has left of Henry Winchester, and that makes it beautiful.

Dean slowly walks around the vehicle, taking in every little detail and remembering the way she looked when he last saw his grandfather. Henry was proud of his truck even though she was outdated, her paint aged by the sun. The man still treated her as if she'd just rolled off the assembly line.

Dean remembers his grandfather picking him up, setting him on the tailgate beside him, and giving Dean a slice of watermelon. Soft country music would be drifting from inside the cab as they ate their fruit in silence, juice dribbling down Dean’s chin and making his skin sticky. The bright light from the sun would beam down, tingeing his cheeks a bright pink. Now, the freckles across the bridge of his nose and the tops of his cheeks have grown darker from being outside so much during the summer.

 _“Someday this truck'll be yours, Dean.”_ Dean can still hear Henry’s voice in his head as the man said those words to him, his arm around Dean’s shoulders.

 _“I’ll take good care of it, grandpa.”_ He remembers his six-year-old-self telling Henry earnestly in response. Henry had chuckled softly at his words. He didn’t know it would be the last time he saw his grandfather; just two days later Henry had suffered a massive heart attack and passed away.

Dean wraps his arms around his middle as his heart clenches with grief. Henry never treated Dean like a child; he'd always spoken to him as if he were an adult. The man never fussed about Dean always being underfoot while he was around. As matter of fact, his grandfather sought him out every time he was at the ranch, always finding something for just the two of them to do. He misses his grandfather, but instead of lingering on the pain he walks to the toolbox in the corner. Dean grabs a couple of wrenches and a socket set and then lifts open the hood of the truck, feeling the draw of the engine as he begins to lose himself in the act of working with his hands.

A couple of hours later Dean's up to his elbows in grease. The humidity of the day is at its highest, and just taking a deep breath feels like a struggle at times. Sweat trickles from the base of his neck, slipping past the collar of his t-shirt, following the path his spine makes. It makes his skin itch a bit, but he doesn’t stop working on the truck. He’s been meaning to set time aside to give the engine a proper tune-up, but something always got in the way. The muscles in his arms burn from the motion of turning the wrench, but it feels good.

He reaches down to tighten a bolt when a deep voice calls his name from behind him. Dean startles at the sound and rises too quickly, banging his head against the hood of the truck. A dull throb starts at the base of his skull and behind his eyes.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean grits out as he looks over his shoulder and finds Castiel standing just a few feet away. “What do you want?” He snaps, not caring one bit that his tone is sharp, even though he knows it wasn’t the man’s intention to scare him.

It doesn’t seem to faze Castiel in the least. “Lunch is ready,” he offers, slowly blinking.

“Great. Not hungry.” Dean turns back his task, hoping the man takes the hint that he wants to be left alone in some semblance of peace.

“When was the last time you ate?” Dean can clearly hear the worry in the man’s tone, but he tries to ignore it. He doesn’t want anyone’s concern.

“What’s it to you, Cas?” Dean barks, not bothering to turn around as he grips the metal under his hands until his knuckles turn white. The pain in his head intensifies as his irritation starts to bubble just from the man’s presence. Logically, Dean knows that Castiel's done nothing wrong; he truly cares for him. That knowledge makes Dean feel like a prick for snapping at the older man, which only serves to then piss him off more because he doesn't need this shit right now. Dean’s also aware Castiel probably doesn’t realize he’s in a no-win situation and that the best thing for him to do is just leave Dean to sort out everything on his own.

Castiel sighs, “I know you’re hurting right now.”

“’m fine,” Dean's teeth are clenched against the lie.

“Dean,” the older man starts and then quickly stops. It’s obvious to Dean that Castiel is choosing his words carefully. “You don’t have to hide how you feel with me.”

Dean turns around at that, leans against the truck, and looks down at the dirt beneath his feet, scuffing the toe of his boot in it. Finally, he looks back up at Castiel before answering, “I’m not hiding anything.” He's speaking softly, though his voice sounds loud in his own ears.

A slight shake of Castiel’s head accompanies his words, “I know that’s not true, Dean.”

Dean looks up and simply says, “Drop it, Cas.”

“Okay.” Castiel raises his hands in a placating gesture. “I just want to offer an ear if you need one. I know how much you cared for Cain.”

“Yeah,” Dean nods while saying the word. “He was—” Dean swallows past a lump in his throat. He hates how even now he has to play down their true relationship. The past couple weeks has been hard enough, but not being able to acknowledge who Cain was to him publicly made it worse. Dean knows he let Cain down. John was at the funeral, and it had taken everything in him to sit still as everyone talked about what good friends his son and Cain were. Dean had sat in silence, nodding to them. “He was my best friend.” The knot in the pit of his stomach grows heavier, it twists and pushes bile up Dean’s throat.

“I know this is tough on you.” Castiel’s voice is gentle. “From what your father told me, you and Cain were like brothers. He was lucky to have you.”

 _Brothers._ Dean laughs, a cold and hollow sound. _Brothers._ Anger seeps into his veins and all Dean can see is red. _Brothers._ Of course, his dad would think that because Dean never told him otherwise. Because he can’t man-up and tell his father the truth. Because Dean’s afraid that John will look at him differently, like all the assholes that he’s ever had to deal with once they found out that Dean’s gay.

 _Brothers._ The word is an insult to Cain’s memory, and it infuriates Dean that he knows he’s at fault for the misconception.

He moves before he can think about what he’s doing and slams his fist against the driver’s side window. Dean hears the glass crack before feeling the pain radiate through his hand. It hurts, but Dean hits the window again, and again, and again, and the crack splinters and turns into a spider’s web. He sees the blood on his knuckles but it doesn’t stop him.

“Dean, stop,” Castiel yells, his voice growing louder over the sound of Dean’s assault on the truck. “You’re hurting yourself.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the tire iron. Dean picks it up off the ground and slams it into the side of the vehicle.

“Dean—” Castiel tries again, this time his voice is more powerful in the small space around them.

He spins around, tire iron still in his hand. “Brother?” Dean cuts Castiel off. “How in the hell would you know that, Cas? You’ve been here, what? Two months?” Dean’s vision blurs around the edges as he pants, the pain in his hand radiating up his arm.

Castiel looks eerily calm, his tone soft as he says, “Dean—”

“No, you don’t get it. How could you?” Dean cuts him off again. “You don’t know me.”

The next swing of the tire iron is to a headlight. “No one fucking knows me around here.” Dean takes a swing at the other light and watches the glass shatter and fall to the ground. “John doesn’t know me. He doesn’t want to know the real me.”

He hits the hood a few times, the metal denting under the assault. "Brother? What a crock of shit." Turning back around, Dean’s voice rises with each word until he’s shouting so loudly his throat hurts.

"He—" The tire iron makes contact with the side mirror and knocks it to the ground.

"Was—" He aims at the damaged window and swings with all his might. Glass flies everywhere, a few fragments nicking his hands and face.  

"So much more than that." This time he makes contact with the door, a huge dent forms from the impact. He drops the tire iron on the ground, breathing heavily, vision still red from anger.

A hand lands on Dean’s shoulder and without thinking, he spins around and takes a swing at Castiel. The man catches his fist in his hand and uses it to pull Dean to his chest. “It’s okay, Dean.”

Dean tries to resist the comfort. He doesn’t deserve it. he doesn’t want it, but as much as he hates to admit it, he needs it. He twists his body to free himself, clawing at the man’s body in an attempt to get Castiel to release his hold. Tears sting Dean’s eyes as he tries to pull away again, but Castiel’s arms wrap tighter around him.

“It’s okay, Dean. I’ve got you,” Castiel whispers.

All the fight drains from his body at those words. He lowers his forehead to Castiel’s shoulder, hiding his face there.

“I loved him.” Dean’s words are spoken into the man’s shirt, but he knows Castiel heard him from the soft humming sound that comes in response. “But not enough.” The words are broken between gasps of air, but they hold so much truth in them that it shakes Dean to his core.

“Shhh. Just let it go.” Castiel’s fingers card through Dean’s hair, and for some reason, that breaks Dean’s resolve, and he does as he’s told. He lets all of it go, crying into Castiel’s neck. He balls his fists into the man’s shirt, holding on desperately, as if Castiel is the only thing anchoring him in this moment.

 “I didn’t love him enough, Cas.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I apologize for the length of time between chapters. I've started a new job and that basically drained me of any energy and creativity I had. 
> 
> As always, thank you to all my beta readers. Huge thank you to the wonderful Hannah. You're an amazing friend and editor. I'm so lucky to have you.


	7. Chapter 7

In the early morning hours, Dean steps outside onto the porch. The world is still dark and will be for an hour or so more. Stars twinkle as far as the eye can see against the dark canvas of the sky as Dean makes his way down the steps, his boots hitting the ground with a soft thud. There is a chill in the air, which is unusual for this time of year, but then again, Texas is known for its odd weather. Dean pulls the flannel shirt tighter around him, he’s not really cold, but it’s a comfort to him anyway.

His mind is tired and he could use a coffee right now. Sleep evaded him the night before, and he tossed and turned since he got in bed. It didn’t take him long before he gave up, turned on the lamp, and grabbed his book on the nightstand. He was deep into the suspense thriller Castiel gave him when the letters began jumping around on the page, giving him an almost immediate headache. After staring at the walls for what felt like hours, Dean decided to get up and start his day. Luckily, the house was still asleep and he was able to slip out unnoticed. Dean’s sure he’ll have to answer to Ellen later, but he doesn’t much care at the moment.

Since the funeral, his appetite has been non-existent, to the point that his family has taken notice. Ellen fusses over him constantly; practically force-feeding him protein filled snacks to keep his energy up. She always keeps a watchful eye on him, and he doesn’t fault the woman. He knows she thinks of him as a son. Charlie and Sam are more often than not at his side, until he grows tired and wants to escape to the sanctity of his room. Dean appreciates all they are doing, he does, but most of the time he’d rather they just left him alone. John’s the only one that has given Dean space. Dean’s not sure if it’s because his dad understands he needs to work this out on his own, or simply because the man doesn’t know what to do. Either way, that is one family member off his back.

As he heads for the new barn, the line of ranch hand homes comes into view. He can’t help wondering if Castiel is awake.  Working side by side with the man for a few months now, it didn’t take long to learn the ranch hand keeps odd hours. Since his breakdown, the two have grown closer, became friends. When Dean needs an ear, he goes to Castiel. Even when he wants to be alone, more often than not, he winds up at the man’s cabin. Why that is, he’s not quite sure. It doesn’t matter, though. Castiel hasn't mentioned the words spoken that day and it’s nice to have someone who doesn’t expect Dean to pour his heart out. Castiel would happily listen to Dean if Dean chose to word-vomit how he feels, but his friend doesn’t push. The man offers quiet support or distraction from Dean’s troubling thoughts when needed. Dean’s lucky to have Castiel, this much he knows for sure and would admit it freely.

The sound of a Zippo flicking open catches Dean’s attention and his feet stop moving of their own volition. He turns around and watches as the man lights a cigarette, the flame dancing, reflecting in the blue of the man’s eyes. They’re gorgeous. Cain’s eyes were blue and beautiful as well. The thought jars Dean. He has to bite his lip to stave off emotions that are bubbling up, threatening to pull him down and drown him in their depths. His teeth clench and the unmistakable taste of blood hits his tongue.

Thinking of his boyfriend isn’t any easier two months after his passing. His ex-boyfriend, now, he guesses. His former boyfriend? Dean actually doesn’t know how to classify Cain anymore. It’s not like death comes with a rule book. Life doesn’t either. Attempting to figure everything out has been hell on Dean, both physically and mentally. With Cain’s death, and mourning the loss of him, it opened up old wounds of everyone Dean has lost and made them bleed fresh. Try as he might, Dean hasn’t exactly handled it well, which is something he’s told is perfectly normal, but he doesn't think it is. There are days where it’s a struggle to get out of bed. Where all he wants to do is wrap back up in his blanket and sleep until he can’t sleep anymore. Other times he’s fine and can function through the day without much effort.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Dean waves a hand before turning around and continuing the path to the barn. Feeding the animals is at the top of the list of things to do. Minimal thought is required for the task and that’s something Dean needs right now. The more he thinks, the worse he feels. If only it was possible to shut off part of his brain, he might be able to return to his normal self. Whatever that means.

The following evening, Dean sits back on the cooler filled with bottles of water and ice. Sweat trickles down from his temples, making its way down the side of his face and his neck. His skin is a bit sunburned since he forgot to put on sunscreen before he mowed the back pasture while shirtless. The chore was half-finished before he noticed his mistake, but he pressed on. It will turn into a nice tan soon enough. He’s thankful work is finished for the day, and is in no hurry to get back to the house. His body aches from the long day he had, but it’s a reminder he’s alive and he needs that right now.

Dean runs his hand across his forehead, wiping away perspiration that has collected there. He picks up the bottle of water from the ground where he sat it and takes a slow drink. The liquid feels good against his parched throat; however, it does nothing to cool him down. Screwing the lid back on, Dean tosses it down and lets his head fall against the wood of the stable wall behind him. He takes a deep breath as his eyes slip close and grimaces at the effort it takes just to breathe. With every inhale, the hole inside Dean seems to grow larger, the pain almost too much for him to take, and he would give anything to take his mind off the grief for a few minutes.

With the sounds of the cattle lowing in the distance and the gentle breeze coming from the open door, it would be so easy to drift off and sleep. However, if he gave into the desire, he would wake up with aches everywhere and drenched in sweat he’s sure. When they were younger, Charlie, Sam, and Dean would camp out on hot summer nights under the stars. No tent was needed, although it would’ve kept them from getting bit by mosquitoes, but they didn’t seem to mind back then. They had no cares in the world, and sometimes Dean wishes he could go back to when they could run the length of the ranch, and get lost in the trees playing hide and seek. It would be nice to relive the days when he had no real responsibilities.

Time seems to pass slowly, each minute blending into the next, and he’s lost track of how long he’s sat there with his eyes closed. Dean stretches his body, and then repositions himself. He’s unaware of much until Castiel joins him quietly. Dean doesn’t hear the man, but rather feels his presence. Cracking open an eye, Dean looks up and finds the man standing within a breath's distance.

“Cas, we’ve talked about this,” Dean begins in a slow drawl, “personal space.”

Rolling his eyes, Castiel takes a step back from Dean and playfully kicks the toe of his boot on the ground, hitting Dean’s leg with dirt in the process. “Is this better, sweetheart?”

Ignoring the pet name the man has taken to calling him, Dean nods. “What’s up?”

“Ellen sent me after you for dinner,” Castiel begins, “but I knew you’d say you’re not hungry, so I grabbed a couple granola bars for you.” He tosses them one at a time to Dean, “Oh, and a banana.”

“A banana?” Dean’s eyebrow arches with the question.

“Yes, a banana.” His friend grins. “You know, the fruit?”

Dean lets out a small chuckle. It sounds more like an amused huff of air, but he hasn’t remotely laughed in a while, so he’ll take it. “I know what a banana is, Cas,” he replies dryly.

Castiel tilts his head to the side, “Okay, then what’s the issue? Do you not like bananas?”

“I like them just fine.” Taking the banana from the other man, Dean peels it slowly. He doesn’t want to eat it, but he tries only to keep Castiel from making a big deal of it. “I was just wondering why you chose this particular fruit.”

A frustrated breath escapes the other man. “Because they’re good for you? Because they have vitamins you need?”

“Because you want to watch my mouth as I eat it?” Dean accuses, his tone light; one corner of his mouth quirks up. He stands up, moving to lean against the frame of the door.

He watches Castiel’s mouth open and close a few times. Rendering his friend speechless is one of Dean’s favorite pastimes lately.

“You don’t want to play this game, Dean,” the man replies, finally. His tone has a hint of warning in it.

Taking a bite of the fruit, Dean chews slowly for a minute and then licks his lips, “I don’t?”

“No, you don’t.” His friend’s head shakes slightly as he says the words.

He can’t help himself, he has to know and before he can stop he finds himself saying, “Why’s that?”

A few moments pass with the two of them just staring at each other, then Castiel starts to walk slowly towards Dean. There’s a glint in his eyes that Dean doesn’t recognize. If Dean could, he would step back, but he’s trapped against the wall. He’s not afraid of Castiel, he’s just unsure of what the man will do. Castiel comes to a stop when there’s barely any space between the two of them and leans in. 

Keeping his voice low he asks, “Do you really want to know?”

Swallowing thickly, Dean nods because he can’t form words with his mouth. There’s a change in the air around them, he feels a heat between the two of them that has nothing to do with the weather. The hair on his arms rise, his eyes flick down to Castiel’s lips and then back to his eyes. They’re a darker shade of blue, stormier than they usually are Dean notices, and he’s sure he knows why that is. It’s the same reason Dean’s hands are itching to touch, to reach out and make contact. His lips burn with the need to taste and feel the slow slide of another’s mouth on his. God, he’s craving human contact that only a lover could provide, and it makes his stomach roll with guilt; it’s only been two months.

Turning the tables on Dean clearly pleases Castiel as the man chuckles softly, “It’s not a banana I want to watch your lips wrap around.”

“Cas,” the name slips past his lips without permission. It comes out breathy and Dean hates that it does immediately.

“Don’t play this game, Dean,” Castiel warns as he runs the back of his knuckles along Dean’s jaw.

A tingle runs down Dean’s spine and he leans into the touch ever so slightly.

“You’re not ready,” his friend finishes.

“Screw you, Cas,” Dean replies, pushing the man back to get free of him. “You don’t know me,” he says as he turns to walk out of the barn.

“I know you better than you think I do,” Castiel says.

Dean doesn’t bother turning around, he just flips the man off and starts walking in the direction of the creek. He hears Castiel calling after him, no doubt his friend wanting to apologize as he always does when he toes over the invisible line Dean’s drawn, but he keeps moving. Dean’s not angry at Castiel, no, he’s angry at himself. Because God help him, in that moment with Castiel so close, all Dean wanted to do was kiss him.

It’s peaceful by the creek, just the sound of the water flowing by and the lone call of a whippoorwill in the distance. The scent of wildflowers and cut grass swirls around him where he’s sitting on the bank with his feet in the water. Dean’s skin is still wet from his swim, he didn’t have a towel so drip-dry it is. He looks up at the night sky, and from the position of the moon, he guesses it’s close to eleven. Sam had joined him earlier, but didn’t stay long after his quick dip in the creek.  So now, he sits alone again and that’s okay with him. He misses his siblings and their easy banter, but it doesn’t take long for him to tire of their company. Dean hates that he’s shutting everyone out. He should be spending time with Charlie and Sam before the new school year starts. That causes his stomach to twist with regret. He’s been a pretty shitty older brother lately, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. He hopes they’ll be able to forgive him once he pulls himself free from whatever is binding him.

Dean inhales deeply, closes his eyes, and attempts to center himself. After a few minutes, he smiles and opens his eyes. “Hey, Cas,” he says softly, not bothering to look in the man’s direction. “We seriously need to invest in a bell for you. Or you could, you know, make noise when you walk.”

His friend smiles, “If you didn’t hear me, how did you know I was here?”

There’s no way Dean is telling Castiel that he has become so in tune with the man that he can feel his presence. “I could smell you from a mile away,” he answers instead.

“Oh, you got jokes,” Castiel says playfully. “I’ll have you know I showered before coming here.”

Dean shakes his head, “Do you want a cookie for showering all by yourself?”

The man sits down beside him and then knocks his shoulder into Dean’s. “Smartass.”

“Mmmhmm,” Dean replies. “With a wisecrack.”

They fall silent for a while, enjoying the tranquility. One reason Dean enjoys Castiel’s company is that there’s never a need to fill the quiet around them. It’s always comfortable and relaxing with his friend.

Castiel clears his throat after a few minutes. “Dean, about earlier, I’m truly sorry for any line I overstepped.”

The apology doesn’t surprise Dean in the least. He knew it was coming when he walked away from the stable. “Cas,” Dean’s voice is soft as he speaks the name, “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I did, though,” the man begins. “I know you’re going through a lot with the loss of Cain. You were teasing me tonight and that is the first time I’ve seen you smile in a month. I shattered that moment by taking it too far.

“Were you,” Dean pauses, licks his lips and then continues, “when you warned me earlier, were you serious?

Castiel lowers his head, looking at his hands, “Yes.” The man falls quiet for a few moments and Dean almost thinks that’s that until Castiel speaks again. “When I’m around you, Dean, I find it hard to control my thoughts and actions. You bring out a side of me that I never knew existed.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I guess it depends on who you ask,” Castiel answers, then turns his attention to the creek in front of them.

Dean reaches his hand out and places it on the man’s shoulder. “I’m asking you.”

“No,” Castiel shakes his head. “It’s not a bad thing.

A smile crosses his face, “Then I’m not worried about it.”

The ranch hand returns his smile, and like that, the conversation is over. The seriousness seems to wash away like the current in a fast-moving creek. “How’s the water tonight?”

“Cooler than the weather we’re having.”

“Satan’s taint is remarkably cooler than Texas heat.”

The comment catches Dean off guard and he laughs a deep, belly laugh. “Ain’t that the truth?”

“I missed that sound,” Castiel comments.

Dean side-eyes him, “What sound?”

The man just shakes his head. Whatever he was referring to he’s decided to not share it with the class. Dean doesn’t push.

“Why are you out here alone?” Castiel asks instead.

“Sometimes I just need to get away from everything. Mull over everything in my head.” Dean shrugs slightly, “Just wanted to swim and have some peace and quiet to think.”

“About?” Castiel says, dragging out the syllables out a bit.

“My first crush, actually,” Dean replies before he can think better of it.

“First loves are always fun.”

Dean wants to kick himself for opening his mouth, but there’s no way he can take back the words. “Yeah, I guess.”

His friend smiles at him, “I’ll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours.”

“You make it sound dirty,” Dean teases.

“Don’t skip over the details, Winchester. Give me all of the nitty gritty.”

“What’re we?” Dean asks. “Five?”

“Humor me, Dean.”

“I was like, thirteen, dude; it was puppy love.” Dean shakes his head, “And there was no nitty gritty.”

The older man clucks his tongue in response. “I doubt that.”

“Bastian was shy and we were both young. I may have gotten to like, second base.”

“Bastian?”

Biting his lower lip, Dean contemplates if he should follow through. Once he says Sebastian’s name, his sexuality will be out to a person who isn’t his family. That’s terrifying and freeing all at the same time. He knows he’s safe with Castiel. After Dean admitting Cain was more to him than just a friend, Dean’s sure he can trust the man with his life.

“Sebastian,” Dean takes a deep breath, “his name was Sebastian.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Insert heart felt apologies here about the length of time in between updates* 
> 
> I've missed this story so much. I hope you all enjoy. Comments?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to Hannah, my amazing editor, and friend. Love you!  
> Dani, thank you for reading over and offering your opinions. Of course, your beautiful art as well! Thank you so much.  
> Cas, your feedback, and cheerleading kept me going.  
> Dean, thank you for your comments and helping me get their voices right. Also for the lines that jump started the second scene.  
> I feel I wouldn't have been able to get this out in the time I did without all your help. I love each of you dearly.
> 
> My readers, without you, I honestly don't think I would be writing. Your feedback is so important to me and I love hearing from each and every one of you. Thank you so much. You're amazing.

“His name was Sebastian.”

He hasn’t said that name since he last seen him, but Dean hasn’t forgotten the shy boy with dark hair and blue eyes.

It feels freeing to speak the words out loud. Even though Castiel already knew how Dean felt about Cain, that confession was made during a breakdown. Dean’s offering this and it’s different somehow. It’s like a lock being destroyed on the chains that bind him in secrecy. If only he could be this open with other people, Dean’s life would be a great deal easier. Baby steps, one at a time, he reminds himself. Maybe one day he can live and be himself instead of what others thinks he should be.

“Go on,” Castiel prods gently.

“There’s not much to tell, Cas,” Dean answers, and the statement is true. There really isn’t much to say of the boy who was, for all intents and purposes, Dean’s first crush.

“I was twelve or a little over, Bastian was my age, which was awesome. Inias, his dad, was a dick. I didn’t like him. We became friends, and then midsummer it changed. He was my first kiss, and we messed around some. Then one morning, they were gone. I didn’t get to say goodbye and I haven’t seen him since.”

Castiel smiles softly at him. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t turn this into a chick-flick moment,” Dean snarks. “Okay, so your turn, Cas. Who was your first love?”

The man huffs a laugh. “My nanny.”

Sundays are usually quiet around the ranch and therefore one of Dean’s favorite days. He’s relaxing in his room, lying on the bed reading a murder mystery he borrowed from Castiel. The story is interesting, keeping the reader on the edge of their seats with every turn of the page. Music flows softly from Dean’s laptop. It should be relaxing, but Dean’s having a hard time focusing. He keeps replaying how Castiel pinned him against the wall of the stable that night; how the man’s skin smelled of the sun, cigarettes, and cheap aftershave; the way blue eyes grew dark and stormy with something he can easily identify; watching that bead of sweat trickle from Castiel’s temple until it trailed along the flesh of his neck and wondering how it would taste on his tongue; the way his heartbeat picked up in tempo when Castiel leaned in to whisper in his ear, wondering if the man could hear it; wishing he had the courage to close the tiny distance between them; how he wanted to do just that.

 _You’re not ready for this,_ the man had told him. Dean knew the words were true before his friend spoke them, but they still cut deeply. He’s not ready for any type of relationship, long-term or otherwise, yet he still craves the distraction it would provide, even if it’s not healthy in end.

Dean shakes himself from his thoughts, snapping the book closed in defeat. _This can’t happen_ , he thinks soberly.

_Cas is better off._

No matter how attracted they are to each other, they can’t cross that line. Recalling his track record tainted by his own hands – of the pain he’s caused. It’s seems Dean breaks anyone he loves, poisons anyone he touches. If he has to go through life alone to never feel the loss again, so be it. Dean scrubs a hand roughly over his face, allowing himself to be consumed by self-reproach. The reality of the situation is, even if there were no Cain and he’d never experienced the loss of a boyfriend, Castiel is off-limits. He’s older than Dean (not that age really matters), but he’s also an employee of the ranch.

_Don’t shit where you eat._

Dean stretches his body out against the mattress and sighs deeply, his mind drifting between consciousness and sleep. He’s not tired, but he wouldn’t say no to a nap.

It’s a little after eleven when Dean hears the Impala pull up outside, signaling his family's return from church. He can hear the faint sound of the door opening and closing and the chatter of voices downstairs. Dean stays put, though. If anyone needs him, they know where to find him.

A soft knock grabs his attention and he looks over to his open door, seeing his sister standing just outside in the hall.

“Yeah?” Dean asks as he props himself up on an elbow.

“Dad wants you to join us for lunch,” Charlie answers. “We picked up some fried chicken on the way home.”

Getting takeout isn’t something his family does often. He’s not all that hungry, but he’s been avoiding his family as much as possible. He can’t get away with that forever.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean replies. “I’ll be down in a few.”

The redhead chews on her bottom lip. “I miss you,” she says quietly before turning and disappearing back around the corner.

Her words hit Dean hard. He decides then to make more time for his siblings. Even if he has to slap on a fake smile, they deserve his attention. He’s been neglecting them for too long. Dean pushes himself off the bed, his feet hitting the floor. _Time to rejoin the Winchester family_ , he thinks before walking out of his room.

 

Dean manages to ingest two pieces of chicken and some fried potatoes before pushing his plate away. He must have been hungrier than he thought. Lunch conversation is light, but Dean has a hard time paying attention to his family. His thoughts keep straying to his friend, wondering what Castiel is up to or what the man is doing later. He can’t seem to help himself when it comes to the ranch hand. What’s terrifying is the fact that Dean’s feelings for Castiel are starting to grow.

He’s not one hundred percent sure how they’re changing, but he knows it’s no longer platonic, if they ever were. Castiel makes him feel validated, and more importantly, safe. He’s helped Dean come to terms with the loss of Cain and sort out his true feelings for his former boyfriend. Dean knew he wasn’t in love with Cain and felt horrible for it. Castiel helped him realize that it was okay that he wasn’t.

_You can’t help how you feel about someone. The heart knows what it wants._

“I was stopped after service by Pamela Braeden,” Ellen’s voice pulls Dean from his thoughts. He’s sitting next to her and watches as she takes a drink of her tea before placing it back on the table. Ellen’s still in her Sunday clothes, a light blue dress with little roses here and there. She looks beautiful.

“Lisa’s getting married. They’re interested in holding the wedding here.”

Dean went to school with Lisa. The two of them weren’t friends per se, but they shared more than a few classes, so they were friendly when the occasion called for it. He’s not surprised by the news. Lisa had a steady boyfriend throughout school. Also he’s heard a lot of his friends and acquaintances are starting to settle down, and he’s not sure what to make of that. Dean’s known since a young age he wanted a partner, maybe even a family, but now that dream is just too far out of reach. He can’t hurt another person, not again.

“I said I would talk it over with you, but I don’t see why not,” Ellen continues. “We haven’t had a wedding here since last year. The gazebo could stand a fresh coat of paint.”

“Sounds good, Ell,” John says with a nod of his head before picking up his beer and taking a pull from the bottle. “When’s the date?”

“The end of November,” Ellen answers.

“That’s short notice,” John replies, scratching his chin. “I’m sure we can swing it, though. Just fill me in on any details I need to know.”

“We can help, Mama,” Jo pipes up from her seat at the table. The ‘we’ is clearly her and Charlie, and it’s confirmed by the hopeful look on his sister’s face.

Ellen smiles at the girls. “I’d love that.”

The ear-piercing squeal that comes from the girls has Dean shaking his head, and he chuckles as the two start chattering amongst themselves about how exactly they want to pitch in.

John clears his throat. “Now that I have all of us together,” his dad shoots a look over at Dean. “Our family trip is coming up in two weeks.”

Dean sits back in his chair; he’d forgotten all about their vacation. Every year they go on a trip together. It’s always a different location, and this year they’re going to Corpus Christi. Dean used to enjoy their time away, but after his mother passed it’s never been the same. The beach sounds pleasant enough, however, being trapped in a small rental with seven people just isn’t something Dean can do right now. His stomach starts to churn at just the thought.

“Bobby’s staying behind this year,” John carries on. “He’ll watch after the ranch while we’re gone.”

Dean desperately tries to figure out a way to tell his dad he doesn’t want to go without pissing him off. Normally, Benny and Andrea take care of everything, but they’re going to Louisiana to visit family. Dean’s old enough to do it on his own, and it’s not like he’d be alone. Castiel can help him, it’s not like there would be extra to do while the family is gone. Just a few more chores added daily; nothing they wouldn’t be able to do themselves.  

He decides to bite the bullet and put the offer on the table. “I could, uh, stay behind and run things while y’all are on vacation,” Dean says, almost immediately regretting the fact he spoke up at all when everyone's attention turns toward him, everyone except John's.

“No.”

John’s answer doesn’t surprise Dean. He was expecting it, but it’s irritating nonetheless.

“Why not?” Dean questions his dad, because this is something he needs to know. Why John can shut him down so quickly without even a glance in his direction. “I can handle it.”

His dad snorts, actually snorts at Dean’s response. “You can handle it?”  

“You know I can,” Dean argues. “Haven’t I proven that?” There’s no way his dad can deny that, Dean’s been helping out since he could walk and more so after his mother died.

"You’ve been sulking around here for weeks, Dean.” John replies. “You’ve been selfishly ignoring your duties to this ranch and our family ever since the Adamson boy passed. Why would I leave you here to slack-off?”

He feels all the blood drain from his face, and his pulse starts to beat in his temples. It’s a low blow and Dean’s sure his father is playing dirty to get him to react. He has to fight to not give into the desire to sink to John’s level. He feels Ellen’s hand pat him on the leg; it’s her way of letting him know she’s on his side.

“Guess I’m selfish.”

A muscle ticks in John’s jaw and the man slams his hand down on the table, “Damn it, Dean—”

“Charlie, Jo, Sam, upstairs,” Ellen cuts in. The three do as they’re told, filing out of the room as quickly and quietly as possible. She doesn’t speak again until she knows they’re out of earshot.

“Dean, honey, why don’t you go outside for a little while, let me talk to your father.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice. Without a word, Dean gets up and walks out onto the back porch. Even with the door closed, he’ll be able to hear them. Sitting down on the rocking chair, he tilts his head back and rests it on the wall.

“What harm will it cause to let Dean stay behind?”

“I’m not discussing this, Ellen.” John responds. Dean can hear the finality in his voice. “It’s out of the question.”

“You’re forgetting something important here, John.”

There’s a pause and the sound of a chair squeaking under someone’s weight.

“Dean’s eighteen; he’s not a child anymore. He’s always given up his free time to help around here so his brother and sister didn’t have to.”

“I know that, Ell. You don’t have to remind me.”

“I don’t? ‘Cause it seems like I do. How many times have I had to remind you he just lost someone close to him? Give him time, he’ll come around. But if you keep treating him like a possession, you’ll lose him.”

It feels like his heart stops and Dean holds his breath for a moment. He’s never heard anyone speak to his dad like that. He’s not sure how John will react, and he braces himself in case he has to barge in to break up a fight.

“I’ve never treated him as one.” John’s voice raises slightly, and Dean can hear the warning to tread lightly in the man’s voice. He’s been on the receiving end of that one too many times to not recognize it.

“That boy is so afraid to mess up an order from you. You say jump, and he asks how high.”

“You’re overstepping your boundaries when it comes to my children.”

“I love those children and if defending them is overstepping boundaries, then consider me dancing all over it. I’ve never interfered when you’ve handed down punishments, but I’ll be damned if I stand by and watch you tear them down. I made a promise to Mary I would watch out for them.”

“Ellen—”

“Enough. It’s time for you to let go and allow Dean to be who he is. You don’t own him, John.”

A chair scraping across the linoleum and John’s boots walking heavily across the floor makes Dean jump. He can hear the front door open and slam, then the Impala start up a few seconds later. Dean takes a deep breath to calm down. The house falls silent for a few moments and then he can hear the sound of dishes being gathered up. He slips back into the kitchen; Ellen’s at the sink running water. Without a word, Dean walks over and takes the plate out of her hand. He kisses her on the cheek and whispers a thank you against her skin. She smiles at him and he bumps her hip so she’ll move a bit. Dean begins washing the dishes while Ellen dries.

“Give it time, Dean, everything will work itself out in the end,” Ellen tells him softly.

Dean pauses to take in her words, and finds he believes them. He may not have his mother, but he does have Ellen, and he wouldn’t replace her for anything.

“I know,” he replies as he picks up another plate. They continue the task together side by side, the sounds of appliances humming and the grandfather clock ticking their only melody while they work.

 

Later that night, Dean is lying beneath the stars with Sam and Charlie. They’re drying from their swim and the hot air feels good against his skin for once. Every now and then one of them will point out a constellation or a funny pattern among the twinkling dots.  Dean’s body is loose, his muscles relaxed for the first time in a while, and he’s glad to have his siblings beside him.

“I can’t believe summer vacation is almost over,” Charlie says, her voice just above a whisper. “A new school with new people, I won’t know anyone.”

“I thought that is what you wanted, Bug,” Sam pipes up. “You begged Dad for over a year to let you go to public school.”

“I did want this,” their sister answers before sighing. “I do want this. It’s just gonna suck with no friends.”

“You’ll have Jo, Char,” Dean replies, smiling up at the sky even though his sister can’t see him.

“I’m two grades ahead of her!”  

A small laugh escapes him; Dean turns onto his side and scoots closer to Charlie. “That’s because you’re super duper smart.” He manages to get out before cracking up in a fit of laughter.

“Super duper smart? Wow, Dean. That was lame even for you,” Sam quips.

It’s true, but he doesn’t care. Charlie seems to find it hilarious; she’s laughing so hard her face is turning red.

“And you call me a dork,” Sam accuses. The eye roll is practically heard in his voice.

“You’re our favorite dork,” Charlie reassures him. “The best dork in all the land of Moondor. I shall fashion you a crown to wear.”

“Seriously, though, Charlie, you’ll be fine,” Dean says, tugging on a strand of her hair. “You’ll make new friends.”

“Maybe,” she replies quietly.

“There’s no maybe to it, care bear.” Dean reaches for her hand and threads their fingers together. “People will be lining up to be your bestie. You’re just that awesome.”  

The three start giggling so hard they have trouble catching their breath.

“Super duper? Bestie? You really are gay, Dean.” Sam says through laughter.

Dean sobers up at the comment and grows quiet. He knows his brother didn't mean it offensively, but his emotions are still raw. Charlie takes notice and squeezes his hand. Sam manages to look abashed, but doesn't say anything.

“It's late, we should get back.”

Dean's the first to get up and gather their stuff.

The walk to the house is quiet, Dean's lost in his own head, and he's sure his siblings have picked up on his mood. As they walk past the cabin, Dean looks over and catches Castiel’s silhouette in the window. It takes everything in him to keep moving, knowing that if he stopped to talk to him he’d feel better, but it’s late. He can’t impose on his friend at this hour even though he’s sure Castiel wouldn’t care.

When they get to the house, the three climb the stairs, each of them tired from the day’s events. Sam pauses before he goes to his room and turns around. Whatever he wants to say, he doesn’t speak the words. Instead, he says goodnight quietly, and Dean responds in kind and goes into his bedroom.

It doesn’t take him long to strip out of his clothes, and though he knows he should shower before getting into his bed he doesn’t have the strength tonight. He’ll change the sheets tomorrow and do laundry, and mentally adds it to his list of things to do. As he crawls into bed, there’s a soft knock on the door. He grunts out a response and it opens to reveal his sister. Dean doesn’t say a word, just pulls back the covers, and pats the bed.

Charlie moves in next to him and they whisper their good nights before Dean turns off the light, finally ending another day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions? Comments? Concerns? I would love to hear your opinions on this chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's a real chapter. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Lisa, for editing this. You're amazing.
> 
> Dean, thank you for the help and encouragement. 
> 
> Cas, thank you for the cheerleadering.
> 
> Dani, thank you for telling me not to give up.

The soft glow of early dawn has worn off. Dean stands near the doors to the stable, a sausage biscuit in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. The air is warm against Dean’s skin and thankfully it’s not too hot out yet; they have a full day ahead of them. As he chews the food in his mouth he watches his sister flit about inside.

“This is exciting,” Charlie declares as she begins her daily chores. The horses are already out in the open pasture grazing lazily under the morning sun. “Two weddings within a few months of each other. I can’t wait.”

Dean smiles as he shakes his head at his sister’s enthusiasm, “Technically, we’re only having Anna’s reception here. The ceremony is being held at one of the churches downtown.”

“Still exciting,” she singsongs, not bothering to look his direction.

And he guesses it is for her. Willow Haven has held many events of this nature as far back as Dean can remember. Sometimes having as many as six in a year, so he’s gotten used to them and yet, even he has to admit it’s hard not getting wrapped up in the happiness of the day. He enjoys the busy buzz it creates around the ranch. Their days start earlier and end much later to accommodate getting the place ready for the big day, but no one seems to mind in the least. It certainly makes the days go by faster, and sleep comes easier at night because Dean’s beyond exhausted.

“I can’t believe dad agreed to it.”

Dean sits down on the ice chest. “It’s not like he had much of a choice. Ellen runs the event business. Besides, dad’s known Mr. Milton for years, longer than you or I have been around.” He leans back, resting his back against the wall. “And from what I’ve heard, there was an insane amount of zeros on that check.”

The Milton family called three days ago to see if there was a way to fit Anna’s reception in after the venue they booked had flooded. They had the choice of holding both at the church, but Anna had her heart set on the outdoors. Apparently, Mr. Milton spared no expense to make his only daughter happy and he compensated the ranch very well for any inconveniences they experience. It took a lot rearranging schedules, but in the end, they worked it out. Today the materials for the stage and dance floor are being delivered. There’s no doubt in Dean’s mind they’ll be ready for Saturday, but they still have a ton of work to do.

Dean knows Anna pretty well, he would like to think. They spent their entire elementary and middle school years together as friends. Anna had a massive crush on him for years, but he had been none the wiser until she admitted her feelings their eighth-grade year. He let her down as gently as possible, but it had created a rift between them. Their freshman year, Andy appeared on the scene and Anna had been smitten from the moment she laid eyes on the boy. Dean and Anna seemed to drift apart after that, which happens a lot in high school, so he doesn’t hold it against the girl. They were still in the same social circles since Dean was into sports and Anna a cheerleader, but he rarely attended the parties their friends would throw. And over time, they simply grew apart. Dean’s happy for his old friend. Maybe one day it will be his turn.

By noon, Dean’s clothes are covered in paint and he’s pretty sure some of it is in his hair. He steps back, viewing the gazebo and its fresh coat of paint. It looks beautiful and the rose bushes surrounding it are in full bloom. His mother loved sitting here while she read a book or watched her children play. And a sense of pride washes over Dean for taking care of something that meant a lot to his mom. A smile touches his lips as he grabs the can and brushes, ready to head back to the house and wash up for lunch. As he turns around, he sees Castiel walking towards him.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel greets with a grin as he comes to stop in front of him.

“Heya, Cas, what’s shakin?”

The man shrugs, “Just finished clearing the space for the stage to be set up. I’m heading back to my cabin now to eat. Want to join me?”

Dean chews on his bottom lip for a moment. His dad is at Bobby’s, has been since early this morning. Something about helping the man at the shop was muttered before walking out the door. It’s not like it matters anyway, they haven’t spoken in four days, since the night Dean vetoed going on vacation with them. He’s pretty sure no one will miss him for lunch, but he decides to let Ellen know. “Sure, give me fifteen to clean up and tell Ell I won’t be joining them.”

His friend nods, and they part ways. On the porch, Dean sets down the paint can and places the brushes in an old jar with water to be cleaned later. He finds Ellen in the kitchen putting together sandwiches. Soft music plays from an old radio that sits in the window. She looks up at him her mouth opening to say something, and then she’s covering it with her hand. Dean knows she’s trying her best not to laugh, he’s just not sure why.

“What’s so funny?”

The woman composes herself long enough to say, “It looks like you got into a fight with the paintbrush, and it won. It’s even in your hair.”

Without thinking, Dean runs his hand through his hair. Sure enough, he feels the spots where the paint landed, then cringes when he realizes his hand is covered in it, too. Ellen’s face is almost red now and she’s barely controlling her laughter.

“Laugh it up, Chuckles.”

She grabs a hand towel swats at him with it, “Go take a shower, son.”

“Yes, mom.” It comes out before Dean can think about it. His eyes drop to the floor and then he shuts them tightly. Deep breaths will calm him, if he can focus on it long enough.

Her hand takes his and squeezes lightly. “Dean,” she says softly.

He shakes his head, “I’m okay, Ellen.” He opens his eyes again and tries to reassure her with a smile, but it falls flat. “I’m gonna take that shower now.”

With one last squeeze, Ellen drops his hand. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

Dean nods before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the woman’s forehead. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, Ell.” With that, he heads for his room. In the back of his mind he’s wishing he could hide in his room, but he’s already told Castiel he’ll eat with him and he really doesn’t want the man to worry about him. So he sucks it up and walks up the staircase.

An unseasonably cool breeze flutters by as Dean sits under his favorite Willow tree. He ignores the bark biting into his back as he relaxes against the tree, his muscles burn pleasantly from a long day of work. Dean’s shirt is lying on the ground where he tossed it before jumping into the deepest part of the creek. He had walked down shortly after dinner and he’s pretty sure an hour or two has passed since.

He looks up at the night sky and sighs deeply as he spots his mother’s star. Dean doesn’t talk to her this time, though he sure she’s watching over him. A warm feeling surrounds him at the thought.

There are a few storm clouds gliding by and the moon slips behind one of them. He should head back to the house before it starts to rain, but his ass is too lazy to get up and move. Besides, a little rain never hurt anyone. It’s not like he’s made of cotton candy, he won’t melt.

The winds pick up and shift course and the scent of sandalwood, cinnamon, and cigarettes tickle his nose.

 _Cas_.

He looks over his shoulder and spots Castiel walking in his direction. Even with the distance between them, he can tell the man is tired. His eyes are dimmer than usual and don’t have that sparkle to them. Not that Dean would know Castiel’s eyes sparkle because he doesn’t look at them. Okay, so maybe he does. Dean’s found himself staring at them from time to time without the ability to look away, almost like he’s drowning in them. The dark circles that Dean notices underneath as his friend approaches makes his worry kick up a few notches. Castiel has told Dean more than a few times he has trouble sleeping, but he’s never seen the ranch hand look this… _exhausted_.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says softly as the man sits down beside him.

The smile he gets in return even looks tired. “Hello, Dean. I didn’t think I would find you out here.”

“Dude, I live here.”

Castiel tilts his head to the side and if Dean didn’t know any better he would think the man is serious when he asks, “At the creek?”

Instead of dignifying the question with a response, he rolls his eyes and changes the subject. With the ranch hand this close; Dean can see red marks on his face where his pillow was pressed against it. “No luck with sleep, Cas?”

Castiel just shrugs, “I slept some, but after tossing and turning I decided to come here for a swim. I thought I would be alone.”

“I can leave if you want,” Dean offers. And he means it. He doesn’t want to leave Cas, but he will if needed. He knows all too well about the importance of space and needing alone time to simply just be.

“No, don’t leave, Dean.” Castiel says so quietly that Dean almost misses it.

Their thighs brush together and neither of them bother to move. It stirs something deep inside Dean, but he ignores it and tries to relax again with his friend in the tranquility of his favorite place. The trees dance slightly as the wind picks up again, the sound of leaves blowing around gently is almost like music without lyrics.

“It’s beautiful here.” The ranch hand comments, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dean hums in agreement, not knowing what else to say. Something is on the man’s mind, but Dean doesn’t want to pry. So instead, he offers silent support that Castiel often does for him.

“I received a letter from my sister today.”

There’s heaviness to his voice that Dean’s never heard and the way the man just stares out at the water tells Dean he doesn’t want to talk about it. He can respect that. But he doesn’t like it the fact that there’s something wrong with his friend, so he tries to lighten the mood with humor. Classic Dean Winchester. “I didn’t know people still writes those.”

It has the desired effect, Castiel huffs a small laugh and shoulder bumps Dean.

“We old folks prefer it over emails.” His friend shoots back.

Dean rolls his eyes and if he leans closer to the man, no one has to know but the two of them. “You’re not that much older than me. You’re twenty-four, not a hundred.”

“I feel like I’m centuries old sometimes, though.”

“Well, you don’t look a day over nine hundred.” And he has to duck to miss a small pebble being thrown at his head.

“Thanks,” Castiel says dryly.

“Anytime, Cas,” he replies before they fall back into silence.

In the distance, Dean sees an unmistakable streak of lightening and he sighs. A storm will put off a day of work or more depending on how long it lasts.

Castiel seems to be thinking along the same lines as Dean. “A storm is coming,” his friend says after a few minutes. “That will definitely set us back.”

“Mmmhmm,” Dean agrees softly. “Hopefully, it won’t be a big setback and the ground will be dry before Saturday.”

“What does your family normally do when weddings are held here?”

Dean shrugs a bit before answering, “It depends on if we know the family or not. If we don’t, we normally hang around in the background in case something comes up. We were invited to Anna’s wedding months ago, so I’m sure my family will probably join in the celebration.”

The man looks over at him, “What about you?”

“What about me?” Dean asks. “I’m gonna make myself scarce once we get back.”

Castiel doesn’t take his eyes off Dean, tilting his head slightly like he’s trying to figure a puzzle out.  
Good luck with that, Dean thinks to himself.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean can see Castiel open his mouth and then shut it. “I think it would be fun,” he says finally. “Music, laughter, and dancing, are all good things.”

Shaking his head, Dean side-eyes the man. “I don’t dance, like ever.”

“You don’t dance? Or you can’t dance?”

Dean laughs before saying, “I can’t dance. I have two left feet, man.”

Castiel stands up slowly. “Have you tried?”

Biting his bottom lip, Dean shakes his head and he answers honestly. “No. I’ve gone to dances at school, but always sat them out. Girls asked, but…”

“You weren’t allowed to dance with whom you wanted to,” Castiel finishes for him. “Stand up, Dean.”

The command is given softly and he holds out his hand to Dean, waiting patiently. Dean knows if he says no, his friend won’t pressure him into doing something he doesn’t want to. And maybe that’s why he finds himself rising to his feet, brushing the dirt and little rocks from the bank off his swim trunks. His heart rate picks up a bit as he steps closer to Castiel and waits. “There’s no music.”

The man closes the distance between them, Dean feels Castiel’s right hand touch his hip and he hears Castiel laugh softly. “There doesn’t have to be any.”

Castiel takes Dean’s hand and closes his around it; Dean’s other hand automatically resting on his friend’s bicep. As they start to move, Dean’s body stiffens because he’s not sure what to do and this is why he doesn’t dance in the first place. He doesn’t know where to put his feet or when to move them, or where to move them to, and he’s looking at his feet, trying to mimic what Castiel is doing. Dean cringes when he steps on his friend’s foot and he lets out a frustrated sigh.

Castiel pulls Dean closer, chest to chest, no space between them. His arm wraps around Dean’s back and whispers, “Relax.” The deep timbre of his voice sends a small shiver down Dean’s spine.

After a few deep breathes they begin moving again, Dean still watching his feet. Fingers hook under his chin, moving his head up, and then he’s looking at Castiel.

“Eyes on me,” Castiel instructs. “Relax, follow my body.”

Without thought, he follows the request. Dean’s not sure how long they’ve been dancing, but he has to admit he doesn’t want to stop. Castiel’s body against his feels indescribable. The word good comes to mind, but it doesn’t do justice to how it makes Dean feel. Dean feels the muscles flex in Castiel’s arm and his grip tightens a bit. If his friend notices, he doesn’t mention it. His heart is pounding in his chest and Castiel is keeping up with the rhythm of it, or so it seems.

The sound of cicadas chirping is a little louder than usual and a lone whippoorwill sings in the distance. Castiel spins them and Dean follows perfectly in time to the orchestra of nature.

“See, you’ve got this.” Castiel smiles and lines appear around the man’s eyes and he’s so beautiful that Dean can’t look away even if he wanted to.

The wind whips up stronger around them, and the smell of rain hits Dean’s senses. The hairs on his arms stand from the electricity Dean can feel in the air. They should get back and he’s about to say as much.

Again Castiel must read Dean’s thoughts because the man says, “Don’t think, just be with me.”

They stop dancing and a bolt of lightning flashes through the sky, reflecting in his friend’s eyes. Dean watches, mesmerized. Neither of them move, nor attempt to create space between them. He feels the man’s breath hot on his face and can smell the mint of the Castiel’s toothpaste. Between one heartbeat and the next, Dean leans down and brushes his lips against his friend’s.

Castiel’s lips are soft, and Dean wants more. He wants to know how the man tastes, memorize the flavor. He pulls back, though, just enough to see the man’s face. Under the moonlight, Dean notices his friend’s eyes are dilated. He waits, he didn’t get permission the first time, and he would normally kick himself over it, but he’ll save that for later if he needs to. Dean feels Castiel’s arm that’s around his waist loosen and then fingers are running through the hair and he’s being pulled back towards Castiel’s mouth. This time, when their lips meet it takes just milliseconds before they’re opening for each other, tongues dipping inside.

Dean lets out what can only be described as a whimper, but he doesn’t care because this is what he’s been wanting for weeks. Craving is a more accurate word. He’s not aware they’ve even moved until he feels his back pressed up against the same tree he was sitting under, he’s too wrapped up in Castiel to notice much of anything. He moves his hands, grabbing the man’s hips and pulling him impossibly closer to himself and he can feel the obvious sign of his friend’s arousal. He moans into the next kiss and he grinds against the other man. He doesn’t want this to stop; it’s too good and not enough at the same time.

Castiel’s grip tightens in Dean’s hair and the pain from it zips down his spine. Dean's hands travel down to cup his friend’s ass. A crack of thunder rings out and Dean feels Castiel’s other hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly. Their kiss is broken and Dean tries to chase it again, needing more.

“Is this what you really want?” Castiel whispers against his lips.

It takes only a few seconds for Dean’s brain to come back online and process what was asked of him. He doesn’t know if he should feel offended or hurt by the man’s question. “Are you kidding me right now?” Castiel is an intelligent man and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Dean’s on board with this. “You can’t be serious.”

Dean pushes off the tree and in the process pushes Castiel back a few inches. He doesn’t know what to do or say, but he doesn’t want to do this right now. He turns to walk off, but his friend catches his wrist.

“Dean, wait.”

“Wait for what exactly, Cas?” He steps back a few more inches. “You blow hot and cold so much it makes my head spin. One minute you’re my friend and we’re having a good time. The next you’re in my personal space, making me feel all these things, half of them I can’t even name. Then you’re backing off and telling me I’m not ready.”

Castiel lets out a frustrated growl, running both hands through his hair before replying. “I just need you to be sure of this.”

“I don’t know if I want to throttle you right now or kiss you again.” He laughs, and it sounds empty to his own ears. “What are you afraid of?”

  
His friend looks down at the ground and takes a steady breath before meeting Dean’s eyes again. “I just… I don’t want to start down another road that leads to nowhere.”

And there it is, the raw truth, and if Dean doesn’t walk away now he just might hit something, or worse, hit the man in front of him. He’s not a violent person in the least.

“Thanks for that, Cas.” He spits out and there’s sarcasm dripping off his words. “It’s nice to know you think so little of me.”

Castiel actually flinches. “That’s not what I meant, Dean, not at all.”

“Yeah? You sure could’ve fooled me.” Dean turns to walk off but not before saying, “Just do me a favor and go screw yourself.”

“Dean.”

He doesn’t turn around, he can’t. If he does the thread that his control is holding onto will snap and he’ll start swinging. “Fuck off, Castiel, we’re done here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took forever because of life, fandom drama, and my muse being a fickle bitch. I'm sorry to make y'all wait. 
> 
> I also had a brilliant idea to write from Cas' POV. As you can tell it didn't pan out. Hope you're not disappointed.
> 
> Questions, comments, concerns? I love to hear from y'all. Each of you are in my thoughts while I write.
> 
> Buckle up, it gets bumpy for awhile.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, my lovely readers! I've missed you. So here I am with a new chapter and it's only been a month! My muse decided to play nice after offering cookies and a sacrifice. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Walking away from Castiel isn’t an easy thing to do. With every step away from the man, his mind's fighting with him, telling Dean to turn around and work this out with his friend. If they're still friends, that is. Logically, Dean knows the whole thing is probably a huge misunderstanding, but his pride is a bit hurt. Dean’s no stranger to rejection; he’s had his fair share of it in the past. However, for reasons unknown to him, it’s different with Castiel. The rejection is like a scalding burn and Dean needs to some time to lick his wounds. Right now, though, Dean forces himself to put one foot in front of the other. He’s still angry and confronting this tonight would only lead to an explosive fight. Maybe after a good night’s sleep he will be clear headed enough to have the conversation with Castiel that obviously needs to happen. Or, at least, that’s the plan.

By the time Dean makes it to the house, he’s exhausted. And honestly, he’s still a little sexually frustrated. He pushes that aside as he walks up the stairs and inside his room. With the moonlight drifting in through his window, Dean sees a human shaped lump on the cot, Charlie. He goes through his night time routine as quietly as he can since his sister is in the room. As he grabs a t-shirt from the closet he hears a soft shuffle and then, “D?”

He pokes his head around the door. “Yeah, Care bear, it’s me. Go back to sleep.”

Charlie turns over, the blanket almost falling off of her completely.

Dean walks over and pulls the material back up over her. His sister mumbles, whatever she’s trying to say is incoherent. She yawns and then an even sleepier reply, “’kay,” drifts from her lips before she’s snoring softly again.  
  
Dean watches the girl for a few more seconds before turning around, heading out of his room and into the bathroom across the hall. After stripping out of his clothes, Dean turns the faucet on and adjusts the temperature. He hisses as he steps under the spray, it’s hot enough to make his flesh pink after a few seconds, but not enough to burn him severely. Minutes drift by as he stands under the spray, just letting the water wash over him.  
  
He closes his eyes tightly, trying to forget the kiss, forget the man that has turned his world upside down. It doesn’t help, though. He can still feel Castiel’s lips, taste his friend’s tongue on his. All the images in his head, of Castiel’s hands on his body lead to other thoughts. What it would feel like to be underneath him, Dean’s body stretching as Castiel pushes into him. He can imagine what the man would sound like while chasing his release.

It’s been so long since he’s felt the burn of him opening up for someone that Dean craves it. More than that, though, it’s not just sex he misses. It’s the being close to someone, allowing them to see a side of him that only one other person has ever seen. Dean’s cock fills and it’s almost too painful to bear, he damn near growls as he reaches forward and turns the tap to cold. The blast is a shock, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He moves forward and allows his head to drop, pressing it against the cool tiles on the wall.      
  
After a while, he sighs and begins washing as quickly and thoroughly as possible. He’s ready for the night to be over with, hopefully tomorrow will bring a better day, and Dean can forget everything that’s happened.

* * *

Saturday Dean wakes up with a headache blooming at the base of his skull. Of course, today of all days this would happen to him. It’s not that he wants to go to Anna’s wedding, quite the opposite actually. John told him the night before in no uncertain terms that he had to go. So he pulls himself out of bed and goes through his morning routine while trying to ignore the pain.  
  
He walks to his closet and out of the corner of his eye he sees his suit hanging up in a dry cleaning bag. It’s the same one he wore to Cain’s funeral. Dean’s only has ever owned one suit at a time; his parents would buy a new one anytime he grew out of the old. He has no desire to wear it, he'd rather burn it, but he doesn’t have much choice in the matter. With a soft sigh, Dean turns around and walks back into his room, grabs his shaving kit and heads to the bathroom.  
  
The air is still humid from Sam’s shower and there’s condensation on the mirror. Dean wipes it away with his hand and stares at his reflection. There are dark circles under his eyes and they look bloodshot. He hasn’t slept well since the fight with Castiel and they haven’t had a chance to talk in the past few days. Dean misses the easy friendship they had before the kiss. If he could go back, he would definitely stop himself before he crossed that line. With a heavy sigh, he strips and gets in the shower. He hopes his headache will ease before heading to the church.

* * *

Downstairs everyone meets in the living room. Dean takes in the sight of his family all dressed up, they are a handsome bunch. Good genes run in the Winchester- Middleton family. Sam fills out his new suit well; they had to buy a new one for him since his old one was two inches too short. Charlie has her hair in a French braid with baby’s breath placed throughout. She’s wearing the green jumpsuit that she picked out a couple days ago at the mall. Jo is wearing a matching purple jumpsuit with her hair in a simple pony tail. Ellen looks beautiful in her maroon sundress.

John eyes Dean from his seat on the couch and gives him a slight nod. They still haven’t spoken much, but at least his dad is acknowledging his presence. That’s a small step in the right direction, Dean guesses.  
  
“Is everyone ready?” John asks as he rises from his seat. Everyone answers in the affirmative and they head outside.  
  
“Jo and I are riding with Bobby,” Ellen announces as they meet by the cars. “We’ll meet you there.”  
  
Dean slides into the passenger side of the Impala while his siblings crawl in the back. His head is still throbbing, but at least it hasn’t gotten worse. John gets in and without a word, he starts the engine. His dad leans forward, takes a tape out of the box under Dean’s seat, and puts it in. He turns up the volume and pushes the play button, then proceeds to put the car in gear. The car moves forward enough to turn around, and then they’re heading off the ranch and onto the main road.    
  
The opening bars to Kashmir drifts from the speakers, and Dean looks over at his dad in time to see a soft smile on his face. Maybe today will be a good day after all.

* * *

Dean stops just inside the door of the church and blinks. Pink and ruby red, the colors he assumes Anna chose, are draped across every inanimate object. It looks like the Pink Panther and Jessica Rabbit had a wild affair and left behind the evidence. Charlie loops her arm around his to get him moving again, a smirk on her face. She’s probably thinking the same thing he is, she knows him so well. An usher directs them to a pew on the bridal side and one by one his family files in. Dean’s sandwiched between Sam and Charlie. It reminds him of Cain’s funeral and he has to stomp the memory down quickly.  
  
His father is sitting on the other side of his sister and Bobby next to him. He glances to his left and locks eyes with Castiel as the man sits down beside Ellen. It takes Dean by surprise since he wasn’t aware that Castiel had been invited; Ellen must have brought him as her plus one. He has to admit that Castiel looks handsome in his dark navy blue suit. Dean hasn’t seen his friend in anything other than jeans and a t-shirt, the ranch hand cleans up nicely. He tears his eyes away and stares straight ahead.  
  
There's a soft murmur of people chatting, barely heard over the music as more guests are seated. Dean hopes with everything in him the ceremony won’t be dragged out, but he knows chances of that are slim to none. He recognizes more than a few faces of people he went to school with. Once everyone is settled, the groom and his groomsmen walk in from a side door into the chapel. The crowd hushes as the room fills with the bridal march and the doors open, Dean looks over again, catching Castiel’s eyes before flicking them over to watch the flower girls enter.

* * *

The area they set up for the reception is lit by colorful lanterns. There is a big white tent set up where the food and cake are nestled inside. Dean’s already had his fill and now he’s standing off to the side watching the guests dance along with the music. Anna is in the middle of the dance floor with her husband; she looks absolutely beautiful.

Champagne is being passed around by staff Mr. Milton hired; his father’s old friend wanted the Winchesters to enjoy the event and Dean’s thankful he doesn’t have to serve people he doesn’t know. He’s lost track of time since leaving the church, but he guesses it to be around eight.  
  
His jacket and tie were tossed upstairs as soon as the toasts were made and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up. Sam, Charlie, and Jo are in a little group dancing together. Ellen and Bobby are inseparable and he can’t help but wonder when the two will give it up and admit they love each other. His dad has even been on the dance floor a few times tonight with a couple of different women.  
  
The song that's playing slows down to an end and Anna lifts her head from Andy’s shoulder, her eyes catching Dean’s. She smiles softly and waves him over, but Dean stands where he is, shaking his head. That doesn’t seem to deter Anna, she says something to her husband who nods, and she starts walking in Dean’s direction.  
  
“Hey.” She says with a soft smile on her face.  
  
“Hey yourself.” He returns it with a smile of his own. After all, Anna was a good friend at one time. “You look beautiful, Anna.”  
  
Her eyes sparkle in the light from the lanterns. “Thank you, Dean. Dance with me?”  
  
Dean opens his mouth to decline the invitation, but he can’t find it in himself to let her down. He reaches out for her hand before leading her back onto the dance floor. The song that begins has a slow tempo, all instrumental. He pulls her close and they start swaying with the music, after sometime Anna speaks.  
  
“I’m sorry for the way our friendship ended, Dean.” She says and he hears the sincerity in her voice.    
  
“There’s nothing to be sorry for. We were kids. Hell we still are.”  
  
She makes a humming noise and then laughs softly. “I just got married, I’m not a kid.”  
  
“Legally you’re not.” He grins mischievously. “Mentally you are.”  
  
Anna laughs; it’s a tinkling sound that Dean remembers hearing numerous times. “You’re such an ass.”    
  
They grow silent, just enjoying the music as they move around the dance floor. Dean finds himself glad that he attended the wedding, and that his family was able to provide the space for her big day.  
  
“How’ve you been?” Anna interrupts his thoughts, the concern on her face shows.  
  
He wants to hide from it because he knows what she's talking about. Cain. She knew they were dating through word of mouth.  
  
“I’m okay,” Dean finally answers and he means it.  
  
Sure, there are times where he still misses Cain, but he’s worked through most of that. He and Cain were friends before they started dating. Talking it out with Castiel helped a lot and the thoughts of his friend pulls at his heart. Damn, he misses the guy.  
  
It’s at that same moment he looks up and sees Castiel dancing with someone. Crowley. He knows the guy from school, Crowley being a year ahead of Dean.     
  
Dean tries to look away, but he’s unable to. They look so cozy slow dancing together and it’s like a punch in the gut. Apparently Castiel isn’t opposed to being with someone; it’s being with Dean that he has a problem with.  
  
He watches as Crowley moves his hand from Castiel’s hip around the man’s back, pulling him closer and that’s all Dean can take.  
  
“I’ve got to go,” Dean steps back and finally looks at Anna. “I’m sorry,” he says before turning around and walking off.  
  
Dean doesn’t look back, just heads straight for the old barn. He needs some time to think, there’s no reason to be jealous, but he is. He doesn’t have a claim on the man, yet he’s surprised to find that’s exactly what he wants. When did they cross that line? From friendship into something more that Dean wants to pursue? It had to be before the kiss, Dean’s sure of that. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was just fine with being alone. Okay so that’s not true, but he could deal with it. Dean starts pacing, kicking the dirt every now and then.  
  
And Crowley? Castiel deserves so much better than that smarmy bastard. Maybe that’s a little unfair; the guy never did anything to Dean. He’s even been on the receiving end of Crowley’s charm, but that doesn’t make this an easier. It doesn’t stop the pain of losing someone before he even had them. Running his fingers through his hair, he tugs at the ends, the pain grounding him. After a few deep breaths, he stops in the middle of the barn.  
  
“Dean.” Castiel says from the door. “Are you okay?”  
  
He doesn’t bother turning around, just stands there, and closes his eyes. Of course the man would come after him.  
  
“You sure move on fast.” He didn’t mean to say it out loud. The last thing he wants to do is fight, but he can’t call back the words.  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
Dean turns around and shrugs, “Nothing. Forget I said anything, man.”  
  
“I’m not sure that I can, Dean.” Castiel steps inside before crossing his arms over his chest. “If you have something to say, I’m all ears.”  
  
“Dude, I said forget it.” Dean runs a hand over his mouth and then sighs. He feels cornered and there’s only two ways of getting out of this. Either he actually talks about what’s bothering him, or he starts swinging. He doesn’t want to do either of those so to avoid the topic at all costs, Dean goes to leave, but as soon as he passes Castiel grabs his arm.  
  
“You’re not walking away from me again.” The ranch hand doesn’t move to block the door, but he doesn’t drop his grip on Dean. “I never push you to talk, but this is the one time where I think it would be best.”  
  
He opens his mouth to tell Castiel off, but he doesn’t get a chance. John’s voice calling out to him stops him.  
  
“Dean, boy, where are you?”  
  
Stepping outside the barn, Dean starts walking towards his dad. He doesn’t need his father to know he and Castiel were alone together. Though nothing happened, it would still look odd to John. That’s definitely something Dean doesn’t need right now. “Yeah, dad?”  
  
They meet in the middle, not too far from the open door. “You okay?”  
  
Why is that the first thing everyone asks him tonight?  
  
“I’m fine.” He pushes his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “What’s up?”  
  
“I was told you left the party in a hurry.” John’s eyes flick between Dean and the barn. “What’s going on?’  
  
“Nothing.” Dean huffs a laugh, because that’s so not true. Everything is wrong and there’s nothing he can do about it. “I have a headache, the music got too loud. I decided to take a breather.” Only a half lie, his headache is back, but he can’t tell his father the real reason he left.  
  
John seems to believe him and he tosses something in his direction. Dean catches it and then looks at his hand; it’s the keys to the Impala. Confused, he looks up at his dad.  
  
“What are these for?”  
  
“The Impala,” John says, one corner of his mouth lifted in smile.    
  
“No shit, Sherlock.” He shakes his head and the looks at the keys again. “Why are you giving them to me?  
  
His dad looks down at the ground and then back up at him. “I may not like you staying here instead of going on vacation with us. But I have to accept the fact that you’re grown and can make your own decisions.”  
  
“Okay,” Dean says slowly, letting his father’s words soak in. This is too good to be true, so he waits for the other shoe to drop.  
  
John steps a bit closer. “I only want what’s best for you and sometimes I forget you’re not a little boy anymore.”  
  
Dean opens and closes his mouth, not knowing what to say. He takes a deep breath and tries again.  
  
“Hear me out, son.” His dad stops him. “I know I’m hard on you. I’m harder on you than your siblings because you’re the oldest and supposed to set an example. You’ve done that and now I think it’s time for you to get out more.”  
  
“Dad, I have the ranch to run while you’re gone.” Dean argues, still not believing his ears. His mind spins with what his father is saying.  
  
“Castiel is here to help you. I know you’ll take care of things, but you also need go out and have fun. Find a pretty little thing to occupy you for awhile.”  
  
Ah, there it is. Maybe what his dad says is true, but the real reason behind giving him the keys is to go out and find a girlfriend. He’s not interested, never has been, and if he didn’t think it would end badly he would tell John as much.  
  
“I watched you dancing with Anna. I want that for you, Dean. So take the Impala and go find the queen of your castle.”  
  
“Queen of my castle?” The words are acidic on his tongue as he says them. He swallows hard, and breathes through his nose.  
  
John sighs, “Just have fun, son.”  
  
“Yeah, thanks, dad.” The harsh edge to his voice isn’t missed and his father raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t comment on it. Dean closes his hand around the keys, side steps John and walks off. John falls into step beside him, but he doesn’t care.

Dean takes a chance and glances over his shoulder. Castiel is standing just outside the door, his head cocked to one side and his arms are wrapped around himself. He’ll have to deal with the ranch hand at another time; Dean just needs this night to end.  
  
His dad wants him to go out and have fun. Well, he will, but not where his dad wants him to go. There are several clubs where he can get in without question. Maybe this is what he needs, forgetting everything that has happened. That’s exactly what he plans to do. And he knows just how to do that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, still a bit bumpy, and you probably won't like Dean in the next chapter. Good new is sexy fun times are on the horizon!! I'm excited for that. 
> 
> Thank you for putting up with the slow updates. Questions? Comments? Concerns? I love all feedback.
> 
> Thank you to Lisa, Dean, Dani, and Cas. Y'all rock!

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://winchestersraven.tumblr.com//)


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